The Descent of Wraith
by the morrighan
Summary: Dear readers, this is the last story in this series.  A 17 chapter finale. There are 2 more stories left, each set in the future visions that John and Moira had, that I might post later. I hope you enjoy this finale and thank you for reading my stories.
1. Chapter 1

The Descent of Wraith

Gray.

The color predominated. The walls. The floor. The fixtures. A table. A small bed. Sturdy metal that enclosed the room, enclosed the ship from the harshness of space as it traveled steadily. It was a sad color. Muted. Utilitarian. Not like the livelier walls of Atlantis with bubbling water and pretty shades of blues and greens. Soothing shades that felt like home. That looked like home. That quietly sang a tune only he could hear.

Johnny Sheppard stared round at the all the gray, recognizing it as he recognized the hum of the Daedalus. It's massive engines speeding them out of the Milky Way galaxy and into the Pegasus galaxy. Secure in his mother's arms he held onto her, little hands clasping her green shirt as she navigated her way to the viewport where his cradle stood.

"There you go, darling." Moira Sheppard kissed her son, nibbled his ear, making him giggle. She smiled, set him into the cradle. "Watch the stars, Johnny." She turned him towards the viewport. The baby gurgled, staring. Moira moved to try to create some semblance of order in the small cabin. Although the bulk of the items purchased for the baby were stowed in a cargo hold the room was still inundated with several things that would be needed over the eighteen day journey.

Bags and bags of baby clothes dominated. She tried to stack them against a wall where packages of diapers stood, where a brand new stroller was folded. Boxes of new toys were piled haphazardly. She moved her luggage and her husband's to the other side of the room, climbing over the bed to do so. She sighed, shook her head. Hearing the baby exclaim she looked at him. The infant was pulling himself up to his feet. Little hands clutching the edge of the cradle. He was staring as the stars blurred to colorful streaks. Moira felt the ship jolt as it entered another hyperspace window. The baby prattled loudly, feeling the motion as well.

Moira smiled, moved to him. Touched his back to steady him. "Yes, darling." She kissed his cheek, stroked his back. "Look! Blue. Purple. Green. Violet. Pretty colors."

"Ba! Ba ba!" The baby pointed.

"Blue, yes, Johnny. Lots of blue, isn't there?" she noted, as the swirls of color were many shades of blue. Cobalt. Royal. Turquoise. Sapphire. Drowning out the other colors. "You will have to ask your Uncle Rodney about that. Why there's a preponderance of blue."

"God, no!" John Sheppard stated unequivocally, entering the cabin. He stood watching his wife and son as they stared at the stars.

Moira smirked at his tone, glanced over her shoulder at him. "Hey, John."

"Hey, Moy. Captain."

"Dada! Dada goo! Baba!"

"Now he gets it right, where no one can hear him," John said with a sigh.

"Baba!" the baby repeated.

"Huh?"

"Blue. He wants you to come look at this," Moira translated.

"Oh. Right." John joined them, stepping round the piles of luggage and bags with a smirk. He touched Moira's back. The baby glanced at his parents, gurgled. Looked back at the stars.

"Baba! Baba boo! Boo!" The infant pointed again.

"Yes, Johnny, blue. Lots of blue," Moira agreed. She turned to John. He was staring at the rushing wormhole, expression pensive. "John? What is it? Is that unusual?"

"Maybe. I'm no physicist but I don't recall that much blue in the wormhole." He glanced at his son who moved unsteadily. Fell onto his bottom. Crawled towards his father. Pulled himself upright to stare at him.

"Dada! Dada goo. Ba ba. Baba boo!"

He smiled. "Well, you don't seem upset by it either, captain." He touched the baby's back, helped him stand on his little feet. Eyed the stars again.

Moira was staring at John. At his long, lean form encased in his BDUs. A black t-shirt. Gray pants. Gun holstered on his thigh. "John...I haven't had time to go over all of the research, so let's cut to the chase, shall we? What is the origin of the Wraith?"

"What?" he asked, gaze locked on the blue swirls as he steadied his son. The baby was standing on his little feet, tentatively taking a few steps.

"You said you knew the origin of the Wraith. Back on Earth, remember? So? Care to share with the class?"

He met her gaze, smiled. "Ah. No. Not yet. I want you to look at all that science crap, er, stuff," he corrected to her frown, "first, and see if you come to the same conclusion as I did. I could be wrong. I'm no scientist, you know."

"Yes, I know," she sighed dramatically, making him frown in turn. She smiled. "And I told you, I haven't had time yet. So just tell me, would you?"

"The answer is right in front of you, Moira." He looked back out the viewport. "Wow...that is a lot of blue. I mean a lot," he mused.

Moira was about to make a sarcastic comment but had turned to look as well. Curious at his interest. "John, do you think this is important?"

"Hell if I know, Moira. It caught junior's eye."

"Because he likes the color blue," Moira reasoned.

"Dada!"

"Okay, son." John lifted the baby, held him. Turned him to see the stars. "What's that, junior?"

"Baba!"

"Blue, yes."

"John, you don't think he's–" Moira's comment was interrupted as the ship veered. She fell against the cradle. John stumbled, catching himself. Claxons wailed.

"Shit! What the–" John began.

The ship jerked again. John fell backwards onto the bed, onto his back as held the baby to his chest. The baby prattled, secure in his father's arms. Giggled. Moira fell sideways, hit the floor with her injured side.

"Ow!" she complained. The stab wound was healing but still sensitive.

"Moy? I think we just fell out of hyperspace," John realized, staring out the viewport. Stars glinted in the black expanses. "Are you okay?" He moved to his feet, stepping to her as the baby exclaimed. "What? Moy?"

Moira awkwardly stood, hand at her side. "I'm fine! Look!" She pointed to the viewport.

John stared. The nebulous wave of blue was expanding. Enveloping the ship. Blotting out the distant stars. Shading the darkness of space with hues of blue.

"Colonel Sheppard to the bridge!" a voice announced, shouting over the alarms.

"Here! Let go, junior!" John handed the baby to his wife, disentangling his shirt from the baby's firm grasp. "You're sure you're okay?" he asked, glancing at her side.

"Yes. We're coming with you!" Moira grabbed the always ready diaper bag, slung it over her shoulder. Carried the baby out of the cabin, following on John's heels as he strode to the bridge.

To keep up with his long stride she nearly jogged after him. The baby prattling happily at the bouncing motions as he stared round the ship.

The bridge was engulfed in the blue light which filled the entire viewport. "Sir?" John asked, moving to Steven Caldwell as the older man stood, staring at the sight. Moira stopped short, staring as the baby exclaimed in her arms, pointing.

"Baba! Baba goo! Gaga! Gaga goo!" he called his father.

"We don't know what the hell it is, but it yanked us out of hyperspace," Steven explained. "The readings are off the charts! All over the board, nonsensical. I want you to take an X-302 and see if you can get closer to it."

"John?" Moira asked, panic in her voice.

He glanced back at her. "I'll be fine, Moira."

"Sir! We're moving forward! It's drawing us in!" one technician announced.

"Pull back! Main thrusters!" Steven ordered.

"It's not working, sir!"

The blue light intensified, almost blinding in its brilliancy. It was filling the ship. Entering it.

"Baba!" the baby exclaimed. "Boo! Boo! Gaga! Gaga goo!"

John knew. Somehow he knew. Acted on instinct. He whirled, rushed to Moira. Pulled her to his arms, shielding the baby between them.

"John? What the–" Moira asked, startled. Staring as the entire bridge was bathed in a blue light. John was bathed in it as well, appearing ethereal, a handsome vision as the light seemed to intensify around him. Around them as he pulled her closer to him.

John wrapped his arms around her. "Close your eyes!" he ordered.

"What?"

"Close your eyes!" he shouted, trying to be heard over the sirens, the alarms. Over the blue light surrounding them, isolating them. He could discern a high-pitched whining sound. He pressed her close to him, protecting the baby between them, shielding his eyes and his ears. Once Moira had closed her eyes he closed his. "Hold onto him, I'll hold onto you, and whatever you do, Moira, do not let go!"

"Sheppard!" Steven shouted, squinting. The family was all but lost to the blue light swallowing them. Obliterating them. He stared, blinked, trying to see. He could barely make out their forms as the light enveloped them. Then it was gone.

So were the three Sheppards.


	2. Chapter 2

The Descent of Wraith2

John heard his son giggling. It was a happy, precious sound to his ears. He felt little hands clutching his t-shirt. Felt the infant's body safely pressed between his parents. John opened one eye. Closed it. Opened his other eye. Closed it. Opened both. The blue light was fading. Suddenly it was gone. John instantly recognized the confines of a cabin on a ship. Not a Wraith vessel, but an Ancient one, which was only slightly more comforting. Slightly. "Moira."

Moira opened her eyes, met his gaze. Her arms locked around the baby. The infant prattled. Smiled. "Where..." She stared round, also recognizing the confines of a cabin. Similar to the one they shared on the Daedalus, but lacking any human touches or accouterments.

"No idea. Not the Daedalus," John realized. Slowly he freed her. Touched his son's hands. "Okay, junior, let go now. Come on, let go." He tried to pry the little fingers loose, one by one. But the baby's grip was tight. Stubborn. "Come on, captain. Daddy needs to be able to draw his gun. Moira, a little help here."

Moira tried to help, pulling the baby back a little as she stepped away from John. "Let go of daddy, darling. It's all right. Daddy will be fine now. He won't leave us. He'll protect us."

John had to smile at the absurdity of the situation. Transported he knew not where and stuck trying to free his shirt from his son. "Come on, Johnny, let go like a good boy."

"John Sheppard."

At the female voice the baby exclaimed, letting go of his father at last. The infant stared as a bluish light softly filled the room. Moira cuddled the baby close to her. "Ssh," she whispered into his silky hair.

John turned to stand in front of his wife and son. As surprised as they were. His hand slid down towards his gun. Stopped. The light faded. Revealing a woman. A beautiful woman with chestnut brown hair and an aqua gown. Face serene. Delicate features forming a smile. "Chaya?" he asked in disbelief.

"You know her?" Moira asked. Frowned. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me! One of your lots some women? One of–"

"Not now, Moira," he rebuked over his shoulder.

"Rodney said you had a thing for ascended women, or they had a thing for you," she continued, staring in ire at the beautiful woman.

"Not now," John repeated out of the corner of his mouth.

"You're not getting your hands on my baby," Moira warned.

"Chaya, what is this? Where are we? What's going on?" John asked.

"The child. The child is yours?" Chaya asked, stepping closer.

John had a difficult time assessing the situation. The incongruity of her beauty with that of a threat. Their shared history, their intimacy with the fact of an abduction, not only of himself but of his wife and son as well. But that question cleared his mind.

"John," Moira warned behind him. The baby prattled, reached out to grab his father's shirt.

John felt the little hand tug the collar of his t-shirt. As if in reprimand. Tiny fingers clasping. Pulling. Tiny sounds at his back. "Yes," he answered. Fingers playing on the holster now, the gun in easy reach. "My son. And my wife is right. You're not touching him."

Moira felt a little tension ease in her body. Just a little as John had not yet drawn his weapon.

Chaya smiled. "John Sheppard, I would never harm your child. You know me. As well as two beings can know each other," she reminded.

John heard Moira's sound of annoyance behind him. "Knew," he corrected. "I don't know you now. Where is the Daedalus?" he asked, trying another tactic.

"Safe. In the nebula. Don't be alarmed. We don't intend to harm any of you."

"We? There are more of you? Why transport the three of us here? And where is here, exactly?" He glanced round. "An Ancient ship, war class. Right?"

The baby started to fuss, to cry. "Dada, dada, dada boo!"

"Moy?" John asked.

"I don't know. Ssh, ssh, darling, ssh. Let go now." Blue light pooled brightly. Then disappeared. Another woman stood. Clad in simple garments, a cream-colored dress. She had curly hair. A serene smile.

"John Sheppard."

"You've got to be kidding me!" Moira flared. "Another?"

"Not now!" John tersely said. Had to smile as he felt Moira's fingers on his lower back. Felt them slid down to take hold of his belt. Much like the baby had hold of his shirt. "Teer. You made it. Ascended, I mean."

Teer smiled. "Yes, John." She looked past him at the woman behind him. The baby in her arms. The baby who started to cry.

"John," Moira urged.

"Mama, mama, mama!" the baby cried, upset. Clutching.

"What are you doing to him?" Moira demanded.

"Are you doing something to my son?" John asked. He drew the gun at last, pointed it steadily. "You leave him the hell alone!"

"You would die for them," Chaya said.

"Yeah, I would. Guess you don't know me that well after all," he quipped.

"He would kill for them," Teer observed. "It's too late, John. It's already begun."

"What? What has? Wha–"

"Mama, mama, mama!"

"John!"

The blue light was suddenly there, drowning their voices. Blinding them. The light seemed to shriek. Shots rang out. Loud in the sudden silence. John felt the gun being ripped from his hand, nearly taking his fingers with it. He felt Moira's grasp on his belt. Felt the baby's grasp on his t-shirt. Felt he was falling but they were holding onto him. A sense of vertigo swept over him and he stumbled, trying to find his footing. Although he was certain he was on a flat surface.

Sounds. The baby crying. Moira calling him but she sounded so far away. He fought. Struggling past whatever was holding him down, holding him back. Keeping him from his wife, his son. He couldn't feel their grip on him anymore and that terrified him.

"John."

John opened his eyes, pulse racing. He was flat on his back. He stared up at Moira's face. She was calm. She sat next to him, rocking the baby who was clutching at her but quieter. Turned his little face to his father. Big blue eyes full of tears. A pout formed by his lips. "Moy?" John croaked.

"Easy, John. We're fine. Easy. Don't move." Moira touched his shoulder. "Here, Johnny, now hush." She dug around in the diaper bag. Produced a bottle of juice. Began to feed the infant. The baby calmed. Eagerly sucked on the bottle. Little hands around it. Eyes on his mother. She tenderly stroked his silky hair, his rosy cheek.

John stared, thrown by the normalcy of the scene. By his wife's calm demeanor. But her somber voice warned him. The way she shifted as she held the baby. "Moy?" He tried to move but she stopped him. Her hand on his chest. A gentle but effective pressure halting him.

She met his gaze. "Don't move yet, John. I...I don't know..."

"Don't know what? Are you hurt? Is Johnny?"

"We're fine," she assured. "As are you. You don't remember?"

"Of course I remember! I remember the...the...remember what?"

She smiled. Looked back at the baby. "There now, darling." She put the bottle aside. Positioned the infant to sit. The baby burped loudly. Looked at his father and grinned. John smiled. Reached over to touch his little arm.

"Hey, captain. You okay?"

"Dada goo." The baby gurgled. Cuddled against his mother.

She kissed him, stroked his back. Gently rocked him but winced again.

"Moira? You're hurt! You...ow! Fuck!" he swore, struggling to sit. Muscles screamed in protest, but John didn't see a mark on him. He flexed his right hand, abrasions on his fingers where the gun had been. "Fuck!"

"Easy, John."

"Easy? What the fuck does that mean? Damn it, Moy, you're hurt! What–"

"Lower your voice, John! You're upsetting Johnny!"

"I'm upsetting? I'm upset! Moira!" He sat, took hold of her arm. "Sweetheart? You, you..." His gaze wandered over her. Down to her side. Saw blood staining her shirt. "Oh fuck! Moira! Moy, you–"

"It's nothing, John. When I fell in the ship I broke open the scab. It's sore, that's all," she hastily assured to his concern. She blinked back tears. Grabbed his hand suddenly. "John, you have to promise me!"

"What? You..." His head spun. He fought to clear it. "Moira?"

"Listen to me, John!" She froze him with her gaze. "You have to promise me to get Johnny out of here! Even if it means leaving me behind!"

"Hell no! Never, Moira, never!"

"If it comes to a choice you have to–"

"No. I won't make that choice. I won't." He kissed her suddenly. The baby giggled, caught between them. John drew back. Gently touched her side. Saw the blood had dried. No longer flowing, but the stain was large. "Is it bad?"

"Sore. Sore as hell," she admitted finally, "but it stopped bleeding. John, John, you have to promise me to–"

"No." He met her gaze. Drew her against him. Kissed her brow. "No. Never, Moy. I won't lose you," he muttered into her hair. "Either of you." He touched the baby's back. "What the hell happened? Did I shoot them?"

Moira closed her eyes a moment. Secure in his arms. In his love. In his stubborn refusals, even. "John...yes. Then they were trying to pull you away from us. But Johnny and I had hold of you."

"I remember that."

"I'm not sure what happened...the light flared...like an attack or..." She paused. Whispered, "I think they're afraid of him, John."

"Huh? Afraid of Johnny?" John drew back a little to eye his son. The baby was cuddled against his mother, drooling as he sucked on his sleeve. "Of what? Being drooled on?"

Moira snorted, but grew serious. "No! I think...I think we fought them off...from taking you away from us. Our combined ATA...I don't know how, but I think they wanted to isolate us from you. I think...it's something to do with Johnny's double," she whispered.

"What, exactly?" John asked, watching as Moira wiped the baby's face. Handed him a teddy bear from the diaper bag. The baby cooed, taking it. Nestling against his mother. "I'm not supposed to be here," he realized. "That beam was directed onto you and him. I...oh shit. But why? What could they possibly want with our son?"

Moira sighed. "I don't know." She kissed the baby. "It's all right, darling. Don't you worry now."

"Moy, you must have a theory. You always have a theory," he reasoned, touching her hair, her cheek. Drawing her gaze back to him. "So?"

"John, you have to get us out of here. You have to get Johnny back to the Daedalus."

"I know. Believe me, if I can find a ship to fly we are out of here," he assured. Wondered at her evasion. "Moira? You–"

"No, I mean yes, but no. You know those women, John. You know how to convince them to let us go."

"What? No, I don't. Maybe once, but not now." He looked round. "We need to find an egress point. If this is a warship they'll have a bridge. Better yet they'll have Jumpers." He looked at her. She was watching him expectantly. Worry in her brown eyes. "Why?"

"Why what?"

He frowned. "Why are they afraid of him? What do they want with him, Moy? What the hell aren't you telling me?" At her silence he continued, mind working furiously. "Okay, okay, if you're right about him he'd be a tremendous asset to them. To...the attraction thing? To produce stronger ATA carriers? Their own breeding program, yeah, I figured that out too. Until something went wrong. Something..." He looked at his son. The baby was falling asleep, little mouth open. Grasping his teddy bear. "What am I missing?"

"You tell me, John. You said you figured it out. What could they want him for? I only know I saw fear, John. I think that even we are stronger because our ATA is undiluted like theirs. Because no one knew about the gene on Earth we were never bred for it. So they just evolved naturally."

"The jumping gene, yeah. That makes sense. Doesn't it?"

Moira was silent. She scooted against him. His arm went round her, drawing her close, drawing the baby close. He kissed her. Stroked her arm. She touched his chest. "John..." Her voice fell softly. "I don't know why they want him. But they fear him. And if they fear him they may harm him because they fear him. We can't let that happen. John, you have to get him out of here. At any cost. Please..."

"Ssh..." John kissed her brow. "I have to get us out of here, Moira. All three of us. Now how do we get out of this room?"

"That's your purview, colonel."

"Oh. Yeah. I guess it is. Crap," he sighed.


	3. Chapter 3

The Descent of Wraith3

Sensors were screaming. Chaos reined on the bridge of the Daedalus. Steven stood in the middle of it, calmly assessing what he could. "Status!"

"We've stopped, sir! Sublight is back online!"

"Can you track the Sheppards?"

"Sporadically, sir! Their subcutaneous signals are working, but there's so much interference!"

"Damn it! We need McKay!" Steven realized, glaring out at the expanse of space. The blue nebula was still surrounding them.

"It's moving, sir!"

"What? The whole nebula?"

"Yes, sir!"

All watched as the bluish gases slowly swirled, recoiling from the ship. Sensors were slowly coming back online. Alarms faded one by one.

"Sir! I'm detecting a ship! A huge ship! Warship, class A. Lantean!"

"At least it's not a Hive ship," Steven noted. "Track it! We're going after them! Keep scanning for Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard and his wife!"

John sighed. He made yet another circuit of the room. Banged his fist on the walls. He could not find a door, a panel, a window. There was nothing but solid walls. Solid floor under his feet. He moved back to Moira. "I don't suppose you have a–"

"Sandwich? Here." She held up half a sandwich as she sat on the floor, baby in her lap.

He took it, eyed her. Sat next to her as she began to eat the other half of the sandwich. "Or a bottle of–"

"Water? Here." She handed him one. "Only one, so don't drink it all."

He sipped some, handed it back to her. Eyed the diaper bag. "I don't suppose you have a beer in there, do you?"

She smiled. "No. Sorry, sweetie. Next time."

He smiled, watching her eat. Devoured his half of the sandwich. "What made you grab the diaper bag in the first place? I'm glad you did, believe me!"

She shrugged. Regretted it as an ache assailed her side. "I don't know. It's just automatic, I guess. Have baby, have bag, will travel. Woman's intuition."

"Maybe," he mused.

"What made you rush to us on the Daedalus?" she asked.

It was his turn to shrug. "I don't know. I just...I just knew. Knew I had to protect you two. I knew." He eyed the baby. The infant was fast asleep in his mother's lap. John touched Moira's side, gently slid up the shirt to view the blood-encrusted bandage. "Shit. How is it now?"

"Sore. It's fine, John, don't you worry." She gently pushed his hands aside, let her shirt drop back into place. "You have to get us out of here. Ow!" she protested as he gently probed the injury. The baby stirred at her voice.

"It needs a clean bandage, Moira." He grabbed the diaper bag, began to dig through it.

"No! John, you need to focus on Johnny now, not me! You need to get him out of here. John!" She grabbed his wrist. "Please! You need–"

"You." He resumed searching. "Ah."

"John, damn it, will you listen to me?"

"I can make a bandage out of this," he decided.

"No! You're not listening to me!"

"Enough, Moy!" he snapped, suddenly angry. He met her gaze. "We're not leaving you behind. Got it? If it comes to that then I'd rather stay here."

"No! You can't! You–"

"No! Enough! Now," he resumed in a quieter tone as the baby stirred, whimpered. Settled. "I'm going to make you a clean bandage. Clean the wound. Then all three of us are getting the hell out of here. You said we're stronger, right?"

"Huh? Oh, you mean the...yes."

"Imagine how strong all three of us can be together, Moy. With four ATAs working in concert. Now, relax. First things first."

"John, John, you–"

He kissed her, cutting off her words, her anxiety, her anger. "Ssh, Moy. We're going to be fine. I won't let anything happen to either of you. Or to me. Trust me, sweetheart." He gently moved his son's foot out of the way. Lifted her shirt again. "Hold that, please. This will hurt."

"You think?" she snapped, but held the shirt out of the way. He drew off the soiled bandage. "Ow! OW!" She pursed her lips together as the baby stirred, clutching at her. "Johnny, ssh." She cuddled the baby, hiding her face against him.

John bit his lip, seeing the raw, ragged wound. It looked worse than he remembered. He cleared the blood off the torn flesh. Gently applied a clean, torn diaper to it. Taped it carefully. Moira felt tears at the pain, slicing hot like a knife into her. She winced. Moaned. Focused on the baby in her arms. "Easy, Moy, almost done. I'm sorry, sweetheart. There." He drew her shirt over it. Touched her arm. "Moira..." Concern shone in his brilliant green eyes. Worry.

"I'm fine," she stubbornly asserted through gritted teeth.

"Lay back. No," he forestalled her protest, her alarm, "I'm right here. Lay back and rest a moment. It will give me time to formulate a plan."

Moira moaned, but acquiesced. Reclined on her back, cuddling the baby on her chest. The infant stirred, gurgled. Held onto his mother. She tried to relax, to calm her breathing, her racing emotions. Tried to ignore the fiery pain in her side. "John, John, you have to promise me to–"

"Enough of that." He stroked her hair. Long fingers catching in the brown strands. Soothing. "Let me think, sweetheart. Relax."

"Relax? You..." she paused. "John, I just need a, a minute, okay? Then we can go."

"Okay, Moira." He looked around the room. Concealing his alarm at the extent of her injury. Knew it hadn't been as bad earlier. Had been healing. He wondered if the baby had been crying because of that. Not because something was being done to him but something was being done to his mother. John's resolve hardened at that sobering thought. "Moira," he said quietly, "you think that with our combined genes, our four, we could fight them?"

"Huh?" Moira was far away, escaping the pain, stroking the baby's back as he nestled. John's voice brought her back. "Yes. I think so...but I don't know how."

"Ah."

"Ah? Not that again," she muttered. "John?"

"Don't you worry, baby. I think I know what to do."

"You do?" She stared at him. "Would you care to share with the group?"

He smiled. Leaned down to kiss her lips. To kiss the baby's rosy cheek. "It's all right, Moira." He straightened. "Can you get up now?"

"Yes." She winced, sat awkwardly. "Take–"

"No. He wants you." John stood, helped her to her feet. He grabbed the diaper bag, slung it over his shoulder as she held the baby.

"Um, John, where–"

"With me." He led her across the room. "I'm afraid you need to wake him, Moira. We need his mojo."

"His...oh." She bounced the baby gently, kissed him. "Darling? Darling, it's time. Johnny. Johnny junior, it's time to go back home now."

"He's going to hate that when he's older," John commented with a smile. The baby woke. Smiled. Cooed and looked round.

"Mama, mama, mama..."

"Ssh, darling. Yes. John?"

"Dada! Dada goo! Dada baba boo! Boo ba!" The baby pointed at the wall, oddly serious expression on his little face.

John eyed his son. Eyed the wall. "Here?" He touched the wall, tried to follow where his son was pointing.

"What's he saying?" Moira asked.

"Here, Johnny? Blue here?"

"Ga! Boo ear! Dada, boo ear baba." The baby kept pointing.

"I don't believe this," Moira commented.

"Neither do I," John agreed. He guided her to the wall. "Let him touch it. So will we. Johnny, where is your plane plane?"

"Ga? Dada boo ba...play play?"

"Plane plane, yes. Where is it? Oh no! It's on the Daedalus, isn't it, son? You want your plane plane, don't you? It's on the bridge of the Daedalus."

"Play play! Play play dada play play!"

Moira looked from one to the other, amused. Fascinated.

"Yes, son, but plane plane is on the Daedalus! On the bridge with the lights lights, yes? Yes. Johnny, think of your plane plane. Okay? You think of your plane plane. So will we." John guided the baby's little hand to the wall. "Plane plane, captain. Moira, the wall. Think of the bridge of the Daedalus. Concentrate."

"What? Are you–"

"Trust me, Moy. Now." John touched the wall. Closed his eyes. Moira did the same. The baby was prattling on about his plane toy. "Concentrate, Moira. Johnny, where is plane plane?" John squinted. Saw a blue glow as the wall dissolved. He made out a ship's bridge. Familiar.

"John?"

"Concentrate on the bridge, Moy. Picture in it your mind. Plane plane, captain."

"Dada! Dada play play goo! Play goo ga!"

"John!" Moira exclaimed as the blue light enveloped them. John's arms went round his wife and his son. Moira felt a lurching momentum. Felt she was falling. Held onto the baby, shielding his little face from the light as John's strong arms encircled her waist. Keeping her upright, keeping her in place. She staggered nevertheless. Fell back against him suddenly. She opened her eyes and stared round. "John...the..the bridge of–"

"This ship, yeah." He moved quickly, freeing her. He whirled, going for his gun except it was gone. The holster empty. Like the bridge. Quickly he led Moira to the controls. Pressed buttons, accessing data. "I'll bring up a...ah!" The machine reacted immediately to his touch. Displaying grids, maps. Headings. "There. Jumper bays. Comm unit...hold on a sec!" His fingers flew as the consoles hummed to life. Moira watched, holding the baby. Couldn't help but smile at John's serious expression. At the powder blue diaper bag embroidered with teddy bears slung over one of his broad shoulders. He glanced at her. Glanced again. "What?"

She smiled. "Nothing, sweetie. You and that bag...it's adorable."

He scowled. "Hilarious, Moy!" He smiled, resumed. Tapped his earpiece, tapped the comm. "Daedalus! Daedalus, do you read? This is Sheppard! Copy!" He moved to the command chair, sat. Power zoomed. He hit switches. "Moy! Junior! Mojo!" She moved to him, touched the chair. Held the baby's hand to it as well. The baby exclaimed loudly as lights flashed, as power flooded the unit. John smiled. "I know, captain, wow! Pretty cool, huh? Daedalus! This is Sheppard! Copy! Anybody reading me?"

Silence. Moira sighed. "I guess it didn't–"

"Sheppard?" Steven's voice crackled with static. "Thank God! You...Moira...baby...right?"

"We're fine!" John all but shouted. "Track us! Warship class A, Lantean, full complement!"

"Know that we...can't beam...too much inter...where..."

"Transmitting course projection!" John shouted, fingers flying on the controls that flipped open at his touch. "Receiving, copy? Sir? Daedalus, receiving?"

"Receiving...broken...you...baby..." Steven's voice was fading.

"He better mean Johnny and not you," John quipped to his wife. Causing her to smile. "Sir? We're fine! We need oh shit!" The ship lurched. John sprang from the chair to navigation. "We're dropping out of hyper, probably for a course adjustment! Time to go! Come on!" He pulled Moira into a run off the bridge.

"John! John, what..." Moira asked, but lost her breath as she was running alongside him. The baby prattled, giggled in delight as he held onto his mother.

"John Sheppard."


	4. Chapter 4

The Descent of Wraith4

John skidded to a halt at the woman's voice. Moira nearly collided into him, catching herself. John kept her behind him. Drew his knife as Chaya materialized in front of him. "Look, Chaya, just let us go. Whatever you want from my son you're not getting it! And don't do a damn thing to my wife either!"

"You powered the ship, John," Chaya said, voice soft, soothing. "There is only place to go. One destination." She stepped towards him. "We need the child to complete our mission, but we cannot intervene. It is up to him."

"Your...what? Hell no! No one touches my son! Now let us go! I'll do whatever it takes to keep him safe!" John threatened.

"He will not be harmed."

"Mama! Mama, mama, mama!" the baby cried, clutching. John whirled in alarm.

"Moira?"

"I'm fine!" She winced as pain flared. Abruptly she shoved the baby into John's arms. "Go! Go! Go!" she shouted, falling to her knees.

"Mama! Mama!" the baby cried, reaching for her. John whirled again, baby clutched to his chest. Knife brandished in his other hand. "Stop it! You leave her alone or I swear I will kill you!" he threatened.

Chaya smiled. "Then you will stay here? With the child?"

"No!" Moira cried, hunching over now. The pain sharp, bitter, as if she was being attacked all over again. "John! Go! Go! Get him out of here! You promised me!"

"No, Moira, I didn't," he replied. Turned and set the baby onto the floor near her.

"Mama! MAMA!" The baby wailed, crawling to her.

"Johnny! No! John, John!" Moira cried, but caught the baby to her as the infant reached her, crying loudly now.

John lunged. He grabbed Chaya by her slender throat, thrust her against the wall. Knife raised.

"You stop hurting her now! Or I swear I will kill you! All of you!"

Chaya choked under his grasp, eyes bulging.

"John! Stop now!" Teer called, joining them. Shock on her beautiful face. More women surrounded him. Blue light flared. But John's hold didn't loosen, not an inch.

"Dada! Dada ba boo! Dada baba!" the baby cried, clinging to his mother now.

Moira blinked back tears of pain, anger. "John! Go! Take Johnny and go! Damn it, John, you promised me!"

John ignored his wife, his son. Gaze locked with Chaya's. "This is your last chance." He held the knife over her heart. "You stop hurting my wife or you will die. Oh sure, you can ascend, but I can make you hurt like hell, and when you come back I'll just do it all over again." His voice was low, intense. Hatred flooded his green eyes, hard as diamonds. Ruthless.

Blue light flared. John was abruptly propelled backwards. He fell onto the floor. Landed on the diaper bag. The knife flew from his grasp, slid across the floor. "Fuck!" He scrambled to his knees. Saw Moira had collapsed onto the floor. The baby next to her, crying loudly. Little arms waving in the air as if he would fight off whatever was attacking her, hurting her. "Shit! No! No!" He scrambled to her. "Moira? Moira!" He felt her pulse. It was strong, steady, but rapid. "Hush, son." He gathered the baby to his arms. Gently turned Moira onto her back. She moaned. "Easy, sweetheart, easy now." He looked at the watching women. Hating their serenity, their calm expressions. "Fine! We'll stay. Just heal my wife! Heal her now!" he ordered. Raw desperation in his voice. He held the crying baby close as the women surrounded them. Knelt to touch Moira.

"She will recover, John. We will heal her," Teer assured. "Come. We will not harm your son."

John moved to his feet, watching as the women lifted Moira, carried her. He followed, trying to soothe the baby who was inconsolable. "Easy, Johnny, easy! Mommy will be fine, I promise. Ssh." He kissed the infant's wet cheek. Gaze locked on Moira. Her inert form. Blood dripping, dripping onto the floor. He bit back the panic, the fear, forced a calm onto himself. Cuddled the baby who was clutching at him, finally quieting, sniffling. Hiccups followed. They entered a cabin. The women set Moira onto a narrow bed. Ran hands over her.

"Ba! Baba boo!" The baby pointed as a blue light engulfed the women, engulfed Moira.

"Yes, junior, blue. Ssh." John watched, tension coiled so tightly he thought he'd be sick.

Moira moaned. Blinked. Tears in her eyes, creating a weird halo across her as the blue light pulsed, pulsed. Faded. She touched her side. Her brow furrowed as she probed the bandage. Probed an injury that was no longer there, although she could feel the scars across her skin. She lifted her head, lifted her shirt to see. To see John staring at her, worry on his handsome face. Despair. The baby in his arms, reaching for her. Pouting. "John? John?"

"Easy, Moy." He sat close, blinked. One minute the women were all around her, the blue light so intense he had to shut his eyes, had to shield the baby. The next the women were gone, as was the light. The baby struggled in his arms. John set him near her.

"Mama! Mama, mama, mama!" The baby snuggled against her, clutching.

She caressed his hair, kissed his brow. "Ssh, Johnny, ssh..." She sat, shock on her face. She stared at her husband. "Oh God! John...John...you..." She slapped him.

"Ow!" He touched his stinging cheek, jaw.

"How could you? Why didn't you escape? You son of a bitch! You have to get Johnny out of here, damn you! No matter what! You have to get him out of here!"

"No. Not without you," John replied calmly. Reassured by her anger that she was fine.

"Damn it, John, yes! Without me! You–"

"No," he repeated quietly. Catching her before she could move. The baby whimpered. "I won't make that choice, Moy, I just won't."

"Damn it, John, you must! You have to always choose your son over me! He is more important! Don't you see?" she cried, furious. "He is more–"

"Not more than you," he argued tersely. "No! I'm not losing you, Moira! Ever! If we have to spend our lives here then fine! At least we will be together!"

"No! Damn it, John! They know that! I'm your weakness and they know that! Leverage! You have to act against that to save your son! Your son, damn it! Your–"

"No!" He kissed her roughly, silencing her protestations, her anger, her fear. The baby gurgled, caught between them. Calmed again. John drew back. Touched her lips before she could speak. "No, Moira. I'd rather die. Okay? I'd rather die than be without you," he said, voice low, choked with emotion. "He needs you even more than I do. So shut up about it, would you?"

Moira stared. His vehement declaration alarming. Causing tears of wonder and dread. She cuddled the baby to her, silent. Kissed him.

John sighed. "Look, I know you'd die to protect him. To save him. To save me. But that's not happening, Moy. Not today. Not ever. Okay? We stick together. The three of us. Our charmed little circle. No matter what happens." He looked round the room. "At least we've got a cabin now. See? Things are improving. And you're healed. I know our supplies won't hold out forever so let me think."

Still she was silent, staring at him. Emotions overwhelming her. The baby was quiet, holding onto her. Watching his father. Sucking on his lower lip. Big blue eyes solemn. John smiled at the baby. Touched his rosy cheek.

"Don't you worry, captain. We're not leaving your mother. And she's fine now. Let me think." He stared at the room again. Slid the diaper bag off his shoulder to the floor. He felt Moira's eyes on him, her tumult of emotion palpable. Felt his son's trusting gaze. He eyed the door panel. Considered the layout of the ship. He stood. "Let's go."

"Go? Go where?" she asked, finally speaking. "You made a deal to keep us here," she accused.

"Did I? I don't recall that. Let's go." He gestured. "Can you–"

"Yes!" She stood, slid the diaper bag over her shoulder. Baby in her arms. "Where–"

"Stay close to me." He opened the door with a wave of his hand. Led his wife and son into the hallway. "This way."

Moira quickly followed on his heels, glancing round. Finding the ship's empty hallways creepy. The only sounds the hum of the vessel. It's powerful engines driving them somewhere. Even the baby had quieted, staring round, little hands clasping his mother's shirt. The sounds of their footsteps eerily echoing on the cold, cold metal. When they reached their destination Moira frowned. "The bridge?"

"Yes. If they want me to pilot this ship then I will. It's our ride home." John ignored her annoyance, moved to the controls. "Damn. Course is locked in. I can't access it and even if I could I don't know the codes. Or even where the hell we are. Sit." He pointed to an empty chair next to him. He brought up a grid. Studied it. Planets brightened as he concentrated. The baby chortled, pointing at the display.

"What are you looking for, John? I doubt there's a you are here sticker," she noted acidly.

John smiled. "Close enough. Sit. Shit, we are far off the grid. In the outer reaches...just like the planets we were researching, remember? Nearest Stargate is...whoa! Look at that, would you? The Stargate network doesn't even reach this far...except there...and there...Space 'Gates. Just great, just great," he muttered, finger running over the grid. Lights flaring at his touch, causing the baby to exclaim in wonder, delight. "Yeah, you got that right, junior. Atlantis is, by my reckoning, way the heck over there..." His finger slid almost to the other side of the gird. "Let me try bringing this in closer." He glanced at his wife. Moira was still standing, glaring. "Look, Moy, I know you are pissed at me but get that pert little ass into a chair!"

She did so, still glaring. Cuddled the baby who was staring at the three-dimensional map as it hovered in the air. His little mouth open. He pointed. "Dada boo! Boo baba dada boo."

John resumed his gaze on the grid. "Yes, captain, blue. Atlantis is blue, and far from us. This alignment...see how the Stargate network fades the farther out we go? Curious, huh? Except here...and here." He waited, but Moira was silent. He sighed. "Remember you said you thought only an Ancient would have the tech to make that evo-devo stuff? The creatures? And we think it's Baldy...a disgraced Ancient, if you will. Well, I think we're about to find his base of operations. Here, or here." He looked at her. "Will you fucking talk to me?" he snapped.

"So you knowingly are putting our son in danger instead of escaping with him," she accused.

His gaze narrowed. "No. We are completing this mission. Once we get back to Atlantis you and I are having lots of sex. Lots. That should straighten everything out."

"Hilarious, John!"

"I'm serious, Moira! Lots!" he insisted.

"So how does Johnny fit into all of this?"

"You tell me. You're the biologist."

"Paleozoologist, actually, and no, I don't know. Too bad one of your girlfriends didn't tell you."

"Ex-girlfriends," he corrected, "and yeah, I guess they couldn't be bothered to tell me."

"Too bad. It would be nice to have a plan when we get there, colonel. And tell me, exactly how many of those ascended women were your girlfriends?"

"I'll formulate a plan, Moira, don't you worry. And only the two," he replied curtly.

"Really? You'll formulate a plan based on what, exactly? You have no idea what to expect and you have no idea how Johnny plays into any of this! Instead of escaping with him when you had the chance you stayed and now he is in danger, John! Your son! And if none of your fucking girlfriends will tell you what we are supposed to do how in the hell do you know what to do?"

John tensed, trying not to let her anger fuel his own. Staring at the gird in front of him. "That subject is closed, Moira. Drop it now. And they are ex-girlfriends, got it? Ex! I'll figure it out when we get there, all right?"

"No, it's not all right, John! You are putting your son at risk and you don't even know what that risk could be!"

"I am not putting him at risk, Moira, not ever, so shut up about it!" The baby exclaimed as the ship veered suddenly. John slid into a seat, adjusting the controls. The grid vanished into thin air. "Here we go. Just have to guide her in gently now...to wherever we are going." He glanced at Moira. She was staring out the viewport, still furious. Holding the baby as he stared round in wonder. John inwardly cursed, eyed the stars as well. "Lots of sex," he muttered. "Lots."


	5. Chapter 5

The Descent of Wraith5

There was a silence in the conference room. It stretched and it stretched. The shock palpable. Heavy in the air, like a living thing blanketing all reaction, all emotion. Stifling all words. Until Rodney McKay could no longer stand it. He stood. Slammed his fist onto the table. Making data screens jump. "You're telling me that you lost them? All three of them?

"Rodney," Elizabeth Weir countered, but the scientist's shock mirrored her own. And his outrage could not be stopped.

"You lost them! Are you telling me that my best friend, his wife and his son were just whisked off your ship by some blue light? Like that?" He snapped his fingers. "And you have no idea where they are now?"

"Yes. That's exactly what I am telling you, doctor," Steven replied. Calm in the wake of Rodney's storm of outrage. "That's why we returned to Atlantis. I need you to find them. To scan for their subcutaneous signals with the equipment on my ship. Extend the range to their fullest extent from their last known location."

"On board an Ancient ship?" Teyla Emmagan asked. Disbelief in her voice.

"Yes. Sheppard somehow managed to radio us from it but then both the ship and the blue nebula vanished. We couldn't track them. Doctor McKay, can you find them?"

"Of course!" But Rodney resumed his seat. "Track a limited signal through the vastness of space into unknown regions on a ship that is probably cloaked and deliberately jamming all signals? No problem!"

"I may have an idea where they are headed," Evan Lorne offered. "Sir. Ma'am."

"You do? Where?" Carson Beckett demanded.

"Colonel Sheppard had me triangulate the coordinates of all of the planets where we encountered those creatures." He displayed a map on a screen. "Plus any reports of them. Along with–"

"My work, yes, on the outer regions, and Moira's work on the reverse migratory patterns!" Rodney realized.

"Yes," Evan agreed, frowning at the interruption. "The points meet around this area, in red." He highlighted the area. "There's no nearby Stargate but it–"

"This was their last known location," Steven noted, tapping the screen. "Looks like they would be headed out this way."

"They're on the edge of the known galaxy...no one has traveled that far before," Radek Zelenka noted with a worrisome frown. "Anything could be out there."

"Anything could have originated out there, or fled there," Evan agreed. "There's not much out there, which narrows our search significantly."

"A planet," Ronon observed.

"A moon," Rodney corrected, enhancing the readings. "A huge one. Nothing about it in the data base either. If we can get there I can boost the scanners to search for their signals."

"Then let's go!" Ronon said, already on his feet.

"Go. And bring them back," Elizabeth agreed.

A planet was coming into view. A moon. Huge, filling the viewport. It appeared barren. Neglected. Surface pocketed with scars, riddled with crevasses that were swallowed in blackness. John glanced at the console, the readings telling him all about it. The density, the atmosphere, the depth and girth. Everything but what he needed to know. What was on the moon. If anything. He glanced at the floor. Moira had changed the baby's diaper. Was feeding him a bottle. The baby sucked eagerly, little hands wrapped on the bottle. Blue eyes intense as he stared up at his mother. Moira returned his gaze, equally intense. John felt like an outsider momentarily, was loath to break their concentration. He cleared his throat. "He okay?"

"Yes. No thanks to you," Moira grumbled. Still angry. Still worried. "We don't have much left, John. If we don't get back in time..." She left the rest unsaid.

"I know. We will. Trust me." But he turned back to the controls. Knowing he had no idea what to do. How to get his family back to the Daedalus. Back to Atlantis. Moira's undercurrent of fear for the baby mirroring his own. "Whoa." The ship jerked. John grabbed the controls. "Auto pilot just switched off. I've got control...sort of."

"Sort of? Wonderful," she muttered.

The baby freed the bottle. Moira set it aside, began to burp him. He exclaimed. A blue light shone briefly. "Dada boo ba!"

Chaya appeared at John's side, touched his shoulder. "You need to fly us there." She pointed to a long canyon swathed in darkness.

"Why? What's there?"

"The way to end this. Go now, John. Before it is too late."

"End what? Too late for whom? I want some answers now, damn it! Why can't you do this yourselves? Oh yeah, that's right. Your stupid non-interference policy!"

More blue light flared. The baby exclaimed, pointing. Teer appeared at John's other side. Clasped his other shoulder. "Yes, John. It is our highest law."

"Yet you can condone kidnaping my family? Taking an innocent baby like this? I see. You just steal us and force us to your own dirty work!"

"We are too weak to stop him, John."

"Your son has the strength we lack," Chaya agreed.

"My son?" John glanced at his wife, leaning to see her past Teer. Moira was glaring at the two women, holding the baby close to her. He eyed Teer. "He's a baby! What do you expect him to do? Drool on the guy?"

Chaya smiled. "You will know. He will know what to do when the time comes, John. He will sense what to do, even as young as he is. And you will guide him."

"It's the double, isn't it?" John realized, glancing at Chaya. At Teer. At the viewport as he guided the ship downwards, downwards to the canyon. To be swallowed by the darkness. "I knew he could sense things! The Wraith, the other ATA gene carriers, but I don't see how this will help us defeat Baldy. And why is he creating those creatures in the first place? Why? And how? And why is it so damn important to stop him in the first place, huh? Is he a threat to you? Because he's a double like my son, is that it? What did they become?" he asked, but his hands tightened on the controls, because he already knew. Already suspected.

"He is a threat to the entire galaxy, John," Teer replied.

"You must stop him, at all costs, John. All costs," Chaya agreed.

The ship was abruptly plunged into darkness as the canyon swallowed it. The ship's lights dimmed momentarily. John guided the ship carefully, amazed it fit, realizing the canyon must be enormous to encompass a vessel this size. He turned it, arcing it slightly as one wall jutted out dangerously. "I'm reading atmosphere... a closed environment up ahead. Power at minimal but sustainable levels. Two life signs...faint. No...more...signals are being blocked by radiation or interference...crap. This guy...what does he...oh crap." John found himself talking to no one.

He scowled as the beautiful woman faded, vanished in a flare of blue. "God I hate these ascended women!" he grumbled. Glanced at his wife. "Looks like we're going in, Moira. Take a seat."

Moira frowned. Had been glaring at the two impossibly beautiful women flanking John. Their hands on his shoulders, guiding him. Leaning close to talk. Their soft, mellow voices in his ear. Their familiarity with him disturbing. She felt an odd jealousy. Anger. But overall concern for her son, for what they wanted with her son. What they expected him to do. Baffled by their need, their insistence. She stood, burping the baby. She sat next to her husband, staring at the darkness as it consumed them. Swallowed them.

John followed the long canyon to a larger opening. Saw a landing area, a hatch. He headed for it. Rocks scraped a side of the ship and he adjusted the shielding. Landed the ship and sat for a moment, staring at the odd assortment of vessels parked there. Each appeared decrepit. Long out of use. He powered down, checked the readings. "Atmosphere. We can breath it, but we'll be better off inside so we'll move fast." He reached down, smiled at the feel of the solid surety of his gun. "At least they returned my handgun. Wish I had my P90, though." He looked at his wife. The baby was clutching at her, pouting. Teary-eyed. "Moy?"

She turned away from him. Kissed the baby's rosy cheek. His silky hair. "It's all right, darling," she whispered. "Nothing will touch you. Nothing."

John stood. "Moira. I swear to you nothing will happen to him. Or to you. And we have to see this through. We have to, Moira. If this is the source of those creatures we have to stop them. Stop this evo-devo shit, right? You know that. More importantly we have to find out why this is happening. And if somehow Baldy figures out how to evo-devo both genomes...Moy, we have to find out now. And stop him. Look," he continued as she stood, her back to him, ignoring him, "I don't know what the hell to do, you're right. But I promise you I won't let anything or anyone harm Johnny. Or you."

"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep," she said. Voice sullen. Cold. Angry.

"I will keep this one. You know I will. Now let's go. Moira." He touched her shoulder.

She drew away from him, from his touch. Cuddling the baby to her. The infant gurgled, looking over her shoulder at his father. "He's not happy."

"Neither am I," John noted tersely. "Let's finish this so we can go home." He crossed the bridge. Looked back. Moira reluctantly followed. He eyed her. Eyed the baby. "Stay right behind me. Stay close."

"Dada goo?"

"Yes, captain, you'll be fine. Don't you worry. We'll kill the bad guy, save the galaxy and get home in time for dinner. Let's go."

John led them across the ship to the hatchway. Their footsteps eerily echoing again. The silence heavy. Expectant. Cold. He activated the hatch. It opened with a hiss. He stepped out cautiously, gun in his hands. A long corridor stretched ahead of him. Silence. John gestured, led his wife down it. Gun at the ready to fire at the slightest threat. His gaze darting everywhere. Into the shadows. The air was heavy but breathable. Tasted stale, almost metallic.

Moira followed on his heels, holding the baby against her. Stroking his back. The baby clutched at her, hiding his face on her shoulder. Snuffling softly. Moira kissed him, hummed softly to calm him. Reassure him. She froze as John stopped, raised his hand.

John waved his hand over a panel. A door hissed open. He peered round the opening, gun at the ready. Took a step. Another. Gestured for his wife to join him. She did so, stopping as he raised his hand again. He waved the door shut. Waited. The air was easier to breathe in here. More oxygen filling their lungs. The metallic taste was not as strong. Not as stale. He advanced along the corridor. Step by step. Lights flickered. The silence a blanket, stifling. He reached a corner. Heard sounds. Odd noises of dripping. Clicking. Machines of some sort.

John glanced back at her. Cautiously moved round the corner, gun raised. He stared. A room opened up before him. He gestured, beckoning. Waited as Moira joined him. He led them into the room. Into a laboratory worthy of any mad scientist.

Into a crimson nightmare.


	6. Chapter 6

The Descent of Wraith6

The Daedalus dropped out of hyperspace smoothly. The blue streaks resolving into stars, into the bleak vastness of dark space. "Doctor?" Steven snapped, spinning round in his chair to see Rodney hunched over two consoles, fingers flying rapidly.

"Got it! I've fused the long range scanners to a specific calibration to trace any subcutaneous or anomalous signals out here across impossible distances, discounting the variances of planetary bodies and interstellar interference from the nebula and the...all that blue light was highly unusual, by the way and you should have caught that as a warning sign to–"

"McKay? Do you have them?" Teyla snapped, becoming irritated at the diversion into scientific observances. Knowing that Rodney was rambling from nerves and worry and not just to be annoying. At least not at the moment.

"Not yet! I mean I need to narrow the search grid to those coordinates Lorne gave me! Hold on! The signal is...oh shit! It's gone! Blocked by something...let me calculate projections!"

"Gone? What does that mean, gone?" Ronon demanded.

"I don't know! Probably by atmosphere density! My guess is that they have landed somewhere because if they were still in flight I could track them!"

"One of those two planets, then," Evan realized, moving to check a display. "Wow...that's on the edge of the galaxy! But which one?"

"And one's a moon," Rodney remarked.

"We don't need that clarification, doctor! Which one?" Steven asked.

"We do need that clarification, actually," Rodney corrected with a scowl, "because this kind of interference is due to specific density of atmosphere. Which tells me it's the bigger moon and not the smaller planet! Plotting course coordinates now!"

"Finally! Is there a 'Gate?" Teyla asked.

"No."

"Engage hyper drive. We'll be there in thirty," Steven ordered.

"Better make it sooner," Rodney remarked. "I'm reading some instability in that moon's orbit."

"And what does that mean, exactly?" Evan asked. "A decaying orbit?"

Rodney scowled, rolling his eyes. "The correct term is orbital decay. Based on these readings and projections that moon is experiencing considerable atmospheric drag, losing energy at each periapsis." He looked up to see everyone staring at him.

"In English, doctor!" Steven barked.

Rodney continued tartly, "I am! The orbit is growing less eccentric, more circular because it's losing kinetic energy precisely when that energy is at its height! At this rate the moon will spiral down and intersect that planet! It's accelerating at unheard of speeds for reasons which I don't understand but I will soon enough! My point is that we need to get there now!"

"Understood. Thrust at maximum!" Steven ordered, spinning back to eye the viewport.

Evan shook his head at the physicist's verbosity, but asked, "so how long do we have? I mean, for all we know it's been decaying for years and–

"Decades, even centuries, yes! Obviously!" Rodney snapped, moving to another console. "But something is accelerating it! Could be the magnetic field, tidal waves below the synchronous orbit, a neutron star, stellar wind, anything! Or something on that moon itself! All right? Now let me work on finding a way round it because even I can't fix it!"

"Okay, okay," Evan held up his hands in surrender, backing away from the scientist. He joined Teyla and Ronon. "Is he always like that?"

"Yes," Ronon answered gruffly.

"He is as concerned as the rest of us about John and his family," Teyla explained. "Will we get there in time?"

"We have to get there in time. We will," Evan asserted, yet worriedly he looked over as Rodney was muttering to himself, fingers flying on yet another console.

John and Moira's footsteps echoed eerily across the cavernous expanse. It was bathed in a reddish glow. Equipment clustered. Tanks of liquids. Monitors beeping, an odd cadence in the silence. A large tank dominated. The source of the red light. It was full of fluids, wires. Thick, murky, like an oversized aquarium. Something was moving in it. Sluggish. A shape. Humanoid. It moved slowly, reacting to the slightest fluctuation of the liquids sloshing over it, around it. Drowning it.

Irresistibly drawn they neared. Trying to soften their footsteps. Staring in fascination, in horror, in curiosity. Even the baby was staring, clutching his mother's shirt in his little hands. John took a few steps ahead of them, stopped. He tried to see into the tank, past the murk and red and wires. "Moy," he said quietly. He glanced at her as she stepped next to him. The red effusion threw everything into a crimson haze. John found the sight of his wife and son bathed in the red glow highly disturbing. Unsettling. Both were staring at the tank. John slid his free arm around Moira's waist, drawing her close to him. Needing the feel of her body, her warmth. His other hand tightened around the gun. "What is it?" he asked into her ear.

His quiet voice sounded like a shout in the near absolute silence. Startled Moira almost dropped the baby, so intent was her focus on the tank. The baby gurgled, looking at his father. "I don't know," she whispered. She tried to take a step closer but John held in her place. His arm tightening around her. "It...it looks human...but...not..."

Tank water swirled. Cleared briefly to reveal a woman. Long flowing hair swirling around a pale, perfect face. Perfect skin bathed by the red light, the red waters. Naked body comprised of healing scars.

Now John took a step closer, taking Moira and the baby with him. Moira shielded the baby's face from the sight, wishing she could do the same to John. She stared, making out the scarring. Following the contours of the body. Scales. Slit marks on the cheeks. Whispers of Wraith characteristics on a mostly human body. Her scientific mind noting the differences, the similarities. Primitive gills on the rib cage. Nails long but still human. Curling tattoos on the brow that disappeared into the hair. The eyes were closed and she wondered if they would be human or Wraith or some amalgamation.

John stared for an entirely different reason, his gun lowering. He stared at the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Floating gently in the water, as if bathed in roses. Long slender limbs and throat. Full breasts, swells of hips and thighs. Tangled red hair swirling around her. The red triangle of hair between her legs. His arm slipped from Moira's waist without even realizing what he was doing. He took a step closer as the water became murky once more, obscuring the woman from his view. Hiding her again.

"John!" Moira warned, reaching out. Her fingers brushed his arm.

He glanced back at her, at the baby who was frowning, caught between fear and delight. He looked back at the tank. Back to his son. "He knows what it is, Moira. As do I. As do you."

"Huh? What the..." She swallowed, took a step closer to be next to her husband. Eyed the tank. Considered. "Oh my God...the...the...the progenitor. The origin of the, the species?"

"What they became, Moira...yes. The double ATA carriers. They became the Wraith."

"Anything?" Steven asked the second the ship lurched out of hyperspace. A blue nebula fluttered across the distance. In between the ship and the nebula a moon was visible. Large. Tilted awkwardly as it spun on it's doomed trajectory with the smaller planet hidden in its shadow.

"Not yet! Damn...all signals are being blocked! I can't trace the Sheppards or even the Ancient ship! Which tells me they are on that moon, in some enormous canyon or crevasse that is blocking all–"

"What the hell is that?" Evan exclaimed.

Rodney looked up to see vivid flashes of colored lights streaking in space. Twinkling fluctuations. "Magnetic interference or stellar winds...or an exploding star."

"Oh, so nothing to worry about," Evan quipped.

"You better be right about this, McKay," Steven said. "If they aren't on that moon it will take days to reach the other suggested destination. And if we get too close to that gravity well we will be sucked into it as well."

"I know that! I'm right! They're there!" Rodney snapped, but nervously glanced at his scans. Scans that revealed nothing. Were blank. As if there was nothing to scan.

Moira stared in shock at her husband. Heart hammering in her chest. "But...but how? I mean we know their language is a derivative of Ancient, and their tech is similar but not exact, and their...how?" she repeated.

John shrugged. "You tell me. I'm no biologist." He waited, glancing again at the tank. He could barely make out the form within in, gently floating. Made out the form of a large Iratus bug and he grimaced. Hand moving to his throat in remembrance before he stopped the gesture.

"The, the jumping gene? The ATA...the..." Moira frowned as her brain furiously worked. The baby was quiet in her arms, staring at the tank again. As if waiting for her answer as well. "The doubles would have occurred naturally, but randomly...so they would want to control it, breed for it because it was advantageous to the running of the city, at first. But then...then...they became too powerful? Then how did they turn into the Wraith? Not on their own!"

"Not at first."

At the voice John whirled, gun raised. Moira turned, clasping the baby to her protectively. John stared. "Baldy...at last."

The bald man smiled, nearing slowly. Empty hands raised in surrender or reassurance. "Yes, colonel. I'm surprised. Not that you found me, no, I know you had help with that. But that you somehow worked it out. No," he turned his attention to Moira, "it wasn't on our own. Not at all." The baby exclaimed, pointing. "He is one of us."

"No, he is not," John said firmly. "What is that thing in the tank?"

Baldy scowled. "That thing, as you call it...is my wife. The first. The last. And I will do anything it takes to save her. Anything, colonel. Surely you can understand that?" His eyes darted to Moira again.

John's fingers tensed on the gun. "Look, I get that. I get the whole Doctor Phibes thing going on here," he glanced at Moira who nodded at the movie reference, "but why create those things? Those abominable creatures, those primitive Wraith-like monsters and unleash them on the galaxy?"

"He's trying to recreate the first ones," Moira realized. "Isn't that it? To cure her."

Baldy looked at her. "Yes. To find a cure...to keep her human. To keep her from turning into a Wraith. The first ones...they were not Wraith. Not until they were forced to evolve into them for survival."

"You were exiled here, in the outer regions," Moira replied. Glancing round the room. "But why?"

"Because they feared you, didn't they?" John answered. "What you were even before you became the Wraith."

Baldy looked at John. "Yes, colonel. We were too powerful. We built the Stargate network. We found the way to travel to your galaxy and back again. But most of all...we found the key to ascension. To human evolution. The ATA, as you call it, was the first step. The second one was to double that gene. Twin it, as it were. But it was too random."

"The jumping gene," Moira agreed. "So you tried to replicate it."

"Yes, but that did not work either. So we isolated those who could produce it. Breed for it. But it will wasn't enough. And things started to happen. The mothers didn't survive, or the baby's didn't survive. Some toxin was killing them when we forced multiple ATA into them."

"The Medea gene," John realized. Gun still trained on the man as he slowly approached. "Stop right there! Is that it? If the kids didn't produce the antidote they would die."

"Yes, colonel. And that killing gene was introduced by the others. They used the pure enzyme of an Iratus bug queen to stabilize the effects of genetic tampering."

"The enzyme, of course! It's regenerative properties could have stabilized the Medea to some extent. The mRNA would encode the chemical blueprint for the protein product transcribed from the DNA template of the bug. Then carry the coding to the sites of the protein synthesis. The ribosomes! You created a retro-virus to carry the genetic information into a single strand of RNA rather than DNA with the enzyme of reverse transcriptase. To transcribe the RNA into DNA during infection of the host cell. Then the transcribed RNA is integrated into the genome of the host cell, effectively rendering it into a whole new protein! I knew it was in the RNA!" She smiled, looked at John who had a familiar pained expression on his face. "What?"

He shook his head, eyed Baldy again. "In other words they tampered with your DNA to the extent of altering you entirely?"

"Yes, colonel...rendering us even more powerful, at first. But then something else happened. In the germline."

"The sequence of germ cells that have genetic material that can be passed on to a child," Moira helpfully explained. Glanced at the baby in her arms. He was quiet, still staring at the tank. "Gametes such as sperm or eggs are part of the germline as are the cells called gametocytes that divide to produce gametes. And the cells that produce those which are gametogonia all the way back to the zygote! The cell from which the individual develops! You altered that?"

"They did," Baldy confirmed. "To stabilize the double ATA even before the fetus had developed, and it worked for a little while. Until the enzyme became too aggressive. The mutations were inherited. Unstoppable."

"Any mutation in the germline would be passed on to offspring. But any changes in the other cells, the somatic cells would not be. The germline is immortal in the sense that it has the potential to reproduce indefinitely. The enzyme telomerase...affected the shortened...oh my God! That's it! The mutations! The natural defenses! That's why there are so few females! John! John, that's why!"

John exchanged a look with Baldy, shrugged. Eyed his wife. "What?"

But she was looking at Baldy. "They did it, didn't they? They did it."

"Yes, doctor. Genocide."


	7. Chapter 7

The Descent of Wraith7

Silence. The word hung in the air. The only noise was the bubbling in the tank behind them. John shifted his stance slightly, taking a step closer to his wife and son. "Are you saying the Ancients made war on their own?"

"Yes, colonel. Do your people not do the same? In this case they deliberately tried to eradicate us. Exterminate what they made us. Introduced the killing gene into the male germline, as you call it. To eradicate the female of the species."

"Of course. In some way only the XY carriers, the males would have the antidote, not the XX carriers, the females," Moira realized. "You kill the females you effectively kill the species. There can't be a thriving population. And those that were left were exiled here. Left to die in the outer regions...but you didn't die."

"No. We evolved. Found a way with the enzyme harvested from the bugs. As we evolved we lost the ATA, however. We became a genetically modified population, two populations, initially. Those with the ATA, those without. Those more mutated...they thrived."

"Splitting selection," Moira noted softly. "Into two species. Ancient and Wraith, but the allele frequency of the new gene variant split you even further. Adaptation to your new environment. Evolution. The transferring selection to survive, to evolve into an entirely new species away from the Ancients, from everything. They fed off the ones who were the least affected, didn't they?" Badly nodded, sadness in his eyes. "They fed and evolved. They became the Wraith. They developed two ways to breed, with unfertilized cells developing into haploids which are all males. The drones. Having only one chromosome. And diploids, females having two chromosomes to carry on the species...maybe even with human reproduction for the higher life forms, the more intelligent, more human-like ones. Developed a way to sustain your lives on the life force of others because that was all there was out here. No food, no water, nothing. You were left to die and instead you evolved into the Wraith..."

John was frowning. Moira's voice was soft, full of wonder. Her brown eyes full of sympathy, understanding as she worked through the science. The discovery. The baby in her arms was fussing a little, looked at his father. "Whatever. Back to the point. Those things you are creating. We know how you are doing it and it has to stop."

"No, John, that is the point, isn't it?" Moira argued, shaking her head. "'The difference in mind between man and the higher animals, great as it is, is one of degree and not of kind.' Darwin said that in his _Descent of Man, _and I think it applies here as well. However artificially and tragically created the Wraith evolved into a natural species out here. Developed amazing capabilities, such as prolonged hibernation, rejuvenating and regenerative powers, a way to feed that is both terrifying and remarkable. And psychic abilities beyond what mere humans can achieve. Not to mention their own hybrid societies and technology and language and even culture! You are trying to turn back the clock to save her, but you are doing it the wrong way."

"Moira," John warned.

"You are only transforming the genetic switches to create an earlier Wraith, but you are accessing only one part of the genome."

"Moira, no," John's voice was more insistent, but she ignored him.

"You need to access both parts of the genome," she informed, caught up in the discovery, the science, the wonder, "both human and Iratus bug to effectively find the first ones, the ones who were not as mutated, who did not evolved into the full Wraith we know today. The ones who would still possess the ATA. You need a fully human DNA sample integrated with the double ATA to effectively block the other switches, to destroy the Medea gene and to turn back the clock! You need..." She froze abruptly.

John stepped in front of his wife and son, gun aimed at Baldy's heart as he smiled. "There's no fucking way you are getting him! Move back now!"

Baldy kept smiling. "You don't understand, colonel, but your wife does. I already have him. We're the same, that child and I. There's nothing you can do about that."

"No! He is not the same as you and never will be! Now stay back or I will shoot you!"

There was a violent sloshing in the tank. John whirled as did Moira. Suddenly Baldy was behind Moira, grabbing her. Yanking her backwards as if to make her drop the baby. "John!" she cried, struggling to be free, struggling to keep hold of the startled infant in her arms. The floor shifted under their feet, as if the moon was suddenly experiencing an tremor. John couldn't fire, couldn't risk it as he steadied himself.

"Dada! Dada!" the baby cried, pointed at the tank, beyond it. "Rosetum terribilis. Respice finem!"

Alarms were ringing. The ship lurched violently. Lights flashed. "Status!" barked Steven.

"We're being pulled towards the gravitational mass!" Rodney shouted, adjusting controls. "We need to compensate for the increased inertia, hold on!"

"Can you find them?" Evan asked.

"Hang on! I'm reading...yes! Two, no, three, no four, no five life signs but the readings are sporadic! Too much interference! The–"

"Hold on, veer aft now!" Steven ordered. The ship lurched as it was shaken violently.

"We're too close! There's no way we can land like they did! I'm reading the ship is one of those canyons!" Rodney announced.

"We have to get down there!" Ronon argued, hand on his gun. Hating the feeling of being helpless, ineffectual.

"We can beam them out, right?" Evan asked, making his way to the command chair where Steven sat. Issuing orders as the technicians swarmed to correct the ship's flight, to shield it.

"No! Too much inteference! We'd only get half of them, or worse!"

"Then beam us down to them!" Teyla suggested. "We will take the risk!"

"Can't! The best we could do is to beam us near their ship, then enter like they did!"Rodney barked. Straightened. Moved to navigation. "Hold this course and keep the shield up until you hear from me! Got it? Keep on this exact course or you will be pulled into the gravitational well and swallowed like a bug! Let's go! Come on!" he shouted, grabbing a gun from a startled marine and moving to Teyla and Ronon. Both smiled.

"You heard the man, let's go!" Carson agreed, joining the group as did a group of marines.

"On my mark. Go," Steven ordered. Watched the rescue team dissipate in a beam of light.

John stared. He wasn't sure if he was more surprised at the Latin words issuing from his infant son or the fact that he completely understood them. His mind instantly translating. A terrible garden of roses, look to the end. He looked at the tank, past the red waters, the nude body, the wires and valves. To the rosy end. Past the woman's feet, the engorged Iratus bug.

He fired his weapon.

"NO!" Baldy screamed, momentarily releasing Moira. She flung herself out of his reach, clutching the baby to her.

The bullet pierced the glass. A strange hissing sound emanated. Then crack after crack after crack split across the glass. Still holding. Still intact. Until a sudden rocking motion of the floor made the glass shatter. Explode outwards, vomited glass shards, fluids and wires.

Moira spun, dropped, shielding the baby. Water hit her, a wave propelling her towards a bank of equipment as she slid on the tilting floor. John whirled, dove towards his wife and son to protect them but Baldy intervened, smashing into him. Propelling him backwards onto the floor towards the shattered tank. Into the mess of fluids and tissues and bugs. John managed to fling Baldy off him but fell back again as the woman emerged from the tank.

He stared, spellbound for a moment, drenched in fluids and bug gore. Staring up as the naked woman took delicate steps out of the shattered tank. Water sluicing down her bare skin, her red hair a tangled mess along her arms, her sides, her breasts. Water dripping from between her legs, along her thighs to her feet. Gills gasping at her sides as her mouth opened to take in breaths of air. Lungs working. Sharp, pointed teeth glinted between ruby lips. Her eyes were amber, human but slitted oddly. She stepped towards John as wires were still attached to her, pumping fluids into her.

"John! John!" Moira cried, moving to her knees, turning to see him frozen in place. The baby was crying loudly in her arms but was unharmed.

John was about to reply, to move as her words jolted him when the woman flung herself onto him. Fetid breath choked him. The woman slammed him onto his back with tremendous force. The gun flew from his fingers, was gone. A hand closed around his throat. The other clawed open his shirt, clawed away the material. Raised to reveal a primitive sucker was that gaping wide, ready to attack. To feed.

"No!" Moira scrambled, eying the equipment. Unable to intervene as the baby clung, crying loudly. She reached the controls. "John! Hold on! Johnny, Johnny, here, here, please!" she cried, recalling the words. The dials were all red, glowing, blooming like roses. A terminal where all the wires met, all the feeding tubes were supplied. "Johnny, Johnny, here! Help daddy! Help daddy!" She lunged to grab them. The baby did the same, exclaiming suddenly as he stopped crying. A flood of energy jolted her. Sparks flew.

"No! No, stop! You'll kill her!" Baldy screamed, racing to Moira and the baby. He grabbed her, pulling her off but Moira clung, keeping the baby in front of her, out of his reach.

John couldn't breathe. His throat squeezing shut. The thing on top of him stabbing into him. Slashing his clothes, then his skin. Cutting viciously into his abdomen. Blood spurted as pain blossomed. He panted, gasped, fought. The woman's palm slammed down onto his chest. He felt the paralyzing bite of the sucker. He felt the rush of the enzyme as she prepared to feed on him, to take his life. He bucked, helpless. Turned his head to blurrily see Baldy trying to yank Moira away from something. Moira's desperate cry as she fought. The baby's sudden wail. The enzyme surging into him.

A burst of gunfire. The creature toppled, blood spurting onto him, into him. It toppled weakly for a moment. John only needed a moment. He swung his fist into the beautiful face, smashing delicate bones. Shoved it off him. "Kill it! Kill it!" he rasped, coughing, gasping. He rolled and sprang to his feet. Lunged towards his wife and son. Bullets flew into the woman as she stood to pursue.

"Shoot to kill! Shoot to kill!" Evan shouted.

"No! No, let go! Let go of me!" Moira cried, fighting, shoving. She lost hold of the baby as she was wrenched backwards. "Johnny!" she screamed as the baby held onto the controls. Little legs dangling in the air.

John crashed into Badly, tore him away from Moira. "Go!" he ordered, flinging the other man across the room with tremendous strength.

Moira raced to the baby, catching him before he fell, losing his grip. "Johnny! John, John, help us! Turn it off! Turn it off!" She grabbed the controls with her son, flicking switches.

John lurched to them, hands on his bloody abdomen. He freed it to place his bloody hands on theirs.

"John!" Moira exclaimed, glancing over in horror.

"No! Do it now! Kill that thing now! Junior, now!" he harshly ordered. He leaned against her, concentrating. Clearing his mind of the pain, the fear, the disgust. All noise of the battle behind them fading. He felt the power surging like a red tide, inundating his mind but responding to it. Strongly. Stronger than even the Ancient Chair or a Puddle Jumper. Power rising, rising. Lights glaring brightly. A hum filled his ears, rising in pitch. In warning. His brow furrowed as he fought to control it. To override it. To overload it.

"Back!" he shouted, jerking them away. He spun them, shoved them to the floor and rolled on top of them. Shielding them as the equipment spurted. Exploded. A shower of debris was flung over them, all around them. He looked up to see the tank imploding. To see the woman screaming, body riddled with bullets as the wires fizzed. Were yanked out of her. Leaving bloody trails of fluids, of enzyme. The tendrils skittering like living things. Men were shouting, leaping out of the way. The floor tilted and many fell. The tank slid precariously directly towards John but halted, skid the other way.

The woman wailed, a lost banshee as red cascaded all over her. Red hair. Red skin. Red fluids. Red blood. She fell to the floor, a mess of tissue and bone and cartilage. Baldy screamed, moving to her, grabbing a weapon but the marines fired. Killing him even as he fell onto top of her. Tears in his eyes, anguish on his face.

John groaned. A convulsion shook him. He rolled off his wife and son. Onto his back. Hands weakly trying to reach his abdomen. Blood stained his lips as he coughed, trying to speak.

"John? John, no! John!" Moira scrambled to her knees beside him, baby in her lap as he cried wildly now. She touched John's face. Her eyes widening in horror seeing his wound. Seeing all the blood. Seeing tissue and organs protruding. She pressed her hands to his abdomen, as if she could keep him together, make him whole again. "No! NO! John! I need help here! Help me! Help me!"

John's eyes fluttered open. "Moy?" he gasped, touching her hand. His vision blurring. Fading. Warmth enveloped him. Then a creeping cold. He smiled as he eyed his wife, his son. His little family. Safe. Secure. His.

"No, no! John! John Sheppard, don't you dare leave me! Don't you dare leave me! John, please, please!" Moira cried, tears flooding her eyes.

John blinked. "Moira...captain...safe now..sa..." Darkness took him.

"No! NO! John! Carson! Carson!" she screamed even as the doctor was rushing to her. Rodney on his heels. The baby wailed in her lap.

Carson fell to his knees. "Good God! Hold on, Moira, don't move your hands!" Carson checked John's wrist. "Slow, steady...fading...damn it! Rodney!"

Rodney fell to his knees next to Moira. "What can I do? What can I do?" he asked in horror.

"Hold him there, with Moira!" Carson ordered, flinging open his kit.

"Can you save him? Can you?" Rodney asked.

The doctor's gaze met his friend's. Held a moment. "I...I don't know..."


	8. Chapter 8

The Descent of Wraith8

John was walking in a field. Long grasses swayed, reaching his thighs. Whispering things as they tickled against his soft trousers. He stared down to see his himself sprawled on a messy floor. Bloody, torn clothes being removed. His horrible injuries. Glimpses of his insides peeking out beyond the tide of blood and other fluids.

Appalled he looked up to see two beautiful women heading for him. "Moira? Moira?" he asked, but neither was his wife. He looked back the way he had come. Saw Moira and Johnny. Saw Carson and Rodney. All hunched over his inert form. Trying to save him. He looked back, disconcerted. "What the...oh no. Oh no! Did I ascend?"

Chaya smiled. "Not yet, John. That is entirely up to you."

Teer replied, "You have it in you, John. You always have. The ability to ascend. If you wish."

John looked back. Men were lifting him onto a table cleared of debris. Evan directing marines to guard the room. Ronon pacing. Teyla fretting, wringing her hands together. Rodney still pressing his hands over John's abdomen. Moira standing close, hiding her face in the baby's hair as she shielded him from the terrible sight. "No...my family. My family's safe?"

"Yes, John. We told you the child would not be harmed. He knew what to do. You all did," Chaya reassured.

"Then why am I here? Wait...am I...am I dead?" He looked back. Carson was feverishly working. Hands bloody, tools bloody. Evan was handing him scalpels and trying to staunch the flow of blood. Moira was crying. Cuddling the baby. But it was Rodney who had his arm around her. Rodney who was supporting her, keeping her upright, keeping her safe. Not Evan. Rodney. And John realized that if he did die, if this was it that it would be Rodney who would make certain Moira and Johnny were safe, secure. Were provided for, cared for, and would want for nothing. Nevertheless he wasn't in any hurry to leave them just yet.

"Not yet," Chaya answered his question. "But you are very close now. Hovering on the brink between life and death."

"I see. No, I don't," John argued, looking at her. "Why don't you get down there and heal me?" His demand was angry. Desperate.

Teer answered. "We cannot. That is not our choice. We cannot interfere. The choice is yours, John. It has always been yours."

"Mine? I..." He swung back to his death scene. They were moving him. Rolling the table awkwardly as the floor shook. The moon was shaking with tremors. They were all risking their lives to save his, to stabilize his, he realized. Ronon barking orders. Teyla urging them to hurry, to hurry. Evan tapping his radio, trying to contact Steven. Rodney babbling between panic and fear. Carson looking grim but determined. Moira all but collapsing, dissolving. The baby crying anew, inconsolable. Rodney's arm around her suddenly, steadying her. Guiding her. "No. I don't want to ascend! I want to live!"

"It's too late, John," Chaya said, her hand on his arm. A gentle touch.

"What? Wait, no!" he argued as they tried to draw him away. He swung back to see his friends, his family struggling with the table in the corridor. Trying to get to freedom, to safety. To where they could be safely beamed onto the ship. The Daedalus. The moon was lurching, rocking like a bead on a broken string. John bit his lip. Knew that if he did let go he could save them all. If he did die they could rush to safety, not risk their lives any longer. The life of his wife. His son. His friends. All in danger trying to save him.

But he couldn't. He just couldn't. He didn't want to die. He wanted to live. He wanted his wife, his son. His future with them. He wanted his friends, the city. Atlantis. He wanted his family and nothing, nothing would keep him from them. Not even this. "No! I don't want to die! I don't want to die! You can't keep me from them! No! Moira! Moira! MOIRA!"

"...Moira, Moira..." John's voice was a whisper, a rasp. He woke. Moved. Pain shot all over his body. Incapacitating. Stiffness and soreness vying for control. He opened his eyes. They felt heavy. Crusted over. He squinted against the harsh lights over his head. Blinked. He raised his hand to rub them but got snagged on an IV tube. Let his hand fall to his side. He blinked again. Felt like he was floating in a fog until he moved. The pain was duller now. But there. The lights weren't as bright as his eyes adjusted. He felt a vibration. Heard a steady hum. A ship, he realized. He turned his head. It seemed to take forever.

There was a bed next to his. Moira was curled up on it. Moira. Exhaustion had claimed her. She was pale, so pale. Bedraggled. Long brown hair a tangled mess across the pillow, across one pallid cheek. Clothes torn, dirty. Stained by blood and other fluids. Green and brown against the pristine sheets of the bed. In her arms the baby stirred. Unlike her he was clean. Clad in a blue t-shirt, a pair of jeans. Dark hair messy but clean. Johnny. His son. The baby gurgled, moving slightly. Little hands on his mother's arm. Little legs moving. John watched as a tide of love and relief filled him. Overwhelmed. Tears burned behind his eyes. He blinked again. Licked his dry lips.

The baby woke. Stared at him, big blue eyes serious. Assessing. "Dada? Dada goo?"

John tried to smile. "Junior...hey captain," he croaked. He tried to reach a hand towards his son. "Hey there buddy."

"Dada goo? Dada?"

The baby's shifting woke Moira. His voice tickling her ears. She caught him. "Ssh, Johnny, ssh," she muttered.

"Mama! Mama goo!" he prattled, fussing.

"Hush, captain, let her sleep," John admonished.

Moira woke fully. Sat, scrambling at the sound of her husband's voice. "John? John!" She lifted the baby, moved to his bed. Sat gingerly near him, setting the baby onto her lap. She touched John's face. "John?" Tears filled her eyes.

"Wow...that bad, Moy? I had the weirdest dream and–"

"Shut up, John!" She kissed him. "John!" She turned. "Carson! He's awake! Carson! Rodney!"

He winced at her shouting. Groaned. "Hell, I am now," he quipped. "Geez, Moy, you could–"

She looked back at him, fingers lacing with his as the baby prattled, all smiles. "Damn it, John! It's about fucking time!" She wiped her eyes.

"Huh? You–"

"John! John! Thank God!" Rodney exclaimed, rushing to them. He appeared as much as a mess as Moira. Rumpled, dirty clothes stained with blood and other things. "It's about fucking time!" he agreed.

"Huh?" John asked, bemused and baffled.

"Easy, let me check." Carson strode to them. White coat flapping, concealing his own messy clothing. He read the chart. Checked the machines, the monitors. Tapped the IV. Shone a light into John's eyes, making him squint, scowl. Checked the injured man's pulse. Prodded his abdomen swathed in bandages. John winced, moaned. "Strong, steady. How do you feel, John?"

"Huh? I...what...you...Moira?" he asked.

She shook her head, kissed him again. "Damn it, John!"

"Huh? Look, I don't know what the ow! OW!" he protested at Carson's continued examination. "Hey, doc, watch it, will ya? Where the hell am I?"

"The Daedalus. Don't you remember? We almost lost you!" Rodney exclaimed. "Carson had to perform surgery in that cavern of horrors, then here! You scared the hell out of us, John! You scared the hell out of me! We lost you! We nearly lost you!"

"Oh. Sorry." John frowned. "Moira?"

"It's true, John. You..." She felt a wave of tears. Kissed the baby to cover them, control them.

John tried to move but fell back. Tried to remember but it was all a jangled mess of images and sounds. "Shit. Where–"

"The Daedalus," Carson repeated. "Rest easy, colonel. You won't be going anywhere until we reach Atlantis." He shook his head. "Stupid heroics!" he muttered, but the relief shone in his blue eyes. Mirroring the others.

"Huh? Stupid...huh? Moira?" He looked to her again, mystified. He could see they were all relieved he was awake, alive, but were also angry with him.

"Yes, John, stupid," she confirmed. Kissed him again. Her lips a ghostly brush along his. "You stupid, stupid hero!" But she smiled. "I love you, John."

"Stupid? What did I do? I...Moira?"

"Rest, colonel," Carson advised, smiling. "Here." He adjusted the IV. "You need to sleep. You'll heal but it will take time."

"No. What did I do? I wait...wait..." His brow furrowed as he tried to remember. Tried to decipher the images in his mind. "Is this real? Is this...the field I was...no...it was...Moira? Moira?" His fingers tightened on hers suddenly. Needing her to be real.

"Ssh, sweetie," she soothed, kissing his cheek. "You're safe. This is real. I'm right here. So is Johnny. So is everyone. Trust me, John."

"I...the field...I was...huh? Moira?"

"I'm not going anywhere, John, nor is Johnny. Relax. Relax," she soothed, easing him onto his back. Stroking his hair, his temples. The sedative causing him to close his eyes. Her caresses soothing, her voice reassuring. The baby's prattling familiar, dearly loved.

"Field? What field? We were in a room, on a moon!" Rodney noted, shaking his head.

"I have no idea...Carson?" Moira asked. Gaze locked onto John as he fell into slumber. His dark hair mussed, going in every direction. The shadow of a beard and mustache steadily darkening against his pale face.

"Perfectly natural. A dream, perhaps, or an older memory. It will all come back to him, in time. Don't worry. How far out are we from Atlantis?"

"Days, weeks, actually," Rodney answered, shrugging. Gaze on John as well. On the baby as the infant turned to him, smiling. "When that moon impacts the planet we had better be in hyperspace. Although it would be spectacular to witness."

"No, thanks," Moira noted. "The sooner we are home the better. Right, Johnny?"

"GA!" the baby agreed, causing smiles all round. Even John smiled in his sleep, as if he had heard his son's happy exclamation.

"We could always linger and at least get scans on it. I mean now that John is awake he's okay, right?" Rodney suggested, a glint of humor in his eyes. "After all, he'll just be grousing and lounging in that bed so we can watch the moon as it–"

"No, Rodney! We are going straight home! Right, Carson?" Moira asked.

Carson smiled. "Yes, Moira. No side trips or excursions, Rodney."

"Crap," Rodney muttered.


	9. Chapter 9

The Descent of Wraith9

John stirred. He moved. Winced. Pain fluttered. The IV tugged his arm again. He opened his eyes. Felt more clear-headed. More like himself. He saw Moira sitting in a chair next to him. Head bent over a data screen. The baby was in his stroller next to her. Asleep, clutching his beloved plane plane. Little mouth open. "Moy?" he croaked. Coughed. Moved.

"John! No!" She set the pad aside, stood.

John ignored her, forcing himself into a seated position. Adjusting the bed behind him. "Drink."

She gave him some water, helping him sip. Sitting close on the bed now. She put the cup aside as he licked his lips. She caressed his arm. His face. The scraggly beard. "John." She kissed him.

He touched her rosy cheek, her hair. "Moira. Moira. Is this still the Daedalus?"

"Yes, sweetie. We still have days until we reach Atlantis." She nestled against him carefully. "John. Oh John..." Sorrow and relief a wave on her, in her.

He kissed her brow, stroked her back. "Easy, baby, I'm right here. Moira, I had...I had the weirdest dream...I was...ow."

She pulled back. "Sorry. I–"

"No, not you. Oh." He ran his hand down his abdomen. Paused. "Um...is my...my ordnance in order?" he quietly asked.

She smiled as he met her gaze. "Trust John Sheppard to ask about his ordnance right away."

"Yeah, well...you know. Is it? Check it, Moy. Please."

She sighed fondly. Slid her hand under the blankets. Fingers snaking along his thigh. Gently touched his cock. Stroked the length of him. "How's that, sweetie?"

He smiled, settled back. "That feels wonderful, baby. Don't stop, Moy. Don't ever stop...oh fuck..." he sighed happily. Stirring under her touch.

She kissed him, kept stroking. "I'm certain your ordnance is fine, sweetie. We can't do a thorough exam until we reach Atlantis, however."

He closed his eyes. "Just keep doing that...oh fuck...get me off, Moy. Would you? Just a quickie to take off the edge, make me feel whole...just a little..."

"John!" she softly scolded, amused. "Hardly little, colonel, and getting hard indeed," she teased. Kept caressing. Faster now. Nails scratching along the thin scrubs he wore. "Only John Sheppard would want to get off right after he wakes up in the infirmary."

"Yeah, well..." he shrugged, groaned softly. Opened his eyes as she gently squeezed, squeezed his hardening cock. Kissed him. His fingers had just brushed her breasts when a cough interrupted.

Moira sat back, squeeze hard to make him moan. She withdrew her hand, rested it on top of his thigh, fluffing up the blanket to conceal his partial erection. She looked over as the doctor stood, discreetly waiting. "Carson? John and I were, um..." She colored.

"Consulting? Sorry, love, I need to check his IV." John glanced at him as he moved to view it. "John, what can you remember?"

He smiled. Met Moira's warning gaze. "I remember Moira bringing me–"

"A drink of water," she finished smoothly. Lightly smacked his thigh. "No, John. He meant about the cavern." She looked over as the baby stirred. Gurgled. Fell back to sleep.

"Oh. The cavern." He shifted, uncomfortable. Losing interest now that she was no longer touching him. His erection going down all too quickly. "Shit. I mean...I...huh?"

"Carson?" Moira asked.

"Perfectly normal, Moira. He's been under sedation for quite a while. John, how long have you been married to Moira?"

"Huh? Why would you ask me that?"

"Just answer the question, please."

"One year seven months going on eight. Why?"

"See?" Carson smiled.

Moira smiled. Kissed John. "You just earned a brownie point, colonel."

"Did I now?" He raised a brow. "Good for me."

"And how old is wee Sheppard?" Carson continued.

"Wee...oh, you mean junior?" He glanced at the stroller. "Nearly eight months, no..." he calculated quickly. "Nine months. Why all the questions, Carson? Just because I can't remember the cavern? I remember some... a tank...a woman..no, a creature? A Wraith? Ascended women, and Baldy was there too. And that field where I..."

"It's jumbled but it's all there, Moira. It should come rushing back to him in no time. Whenever you are ready, love." He moved across the room to a table.

"Ready? Ready for what? Moy?" John caught her hand.

She kissed him. "Research, John. Collation and other...rest. Relax. Look after Johnny for me, okay?"

"Okay, Moira. Where–"

"Just over there, John. Don't you worry, sweetie."

"Wait. Moy, I..." His fingers tightened on hers. His voice lowering. "How, how close did I come to, to dying? I think it was pretty damn close, Moy. I had the weirdest dream, or vision, or...hell, I may have even ascended a bit and saw my body, saw you and Johnny and..."

Moira felt tears. She squeezed his hand. "You, John, you did. You died...for a few moments we lost you...but Carson brought you back. You..." Emotion choked her.

"Oh. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to upset you. Hey, I'm here now." He touched her cheek. Tears spilling onto his fingers. Her kissed her. "Moira. My Moira."

She caught his hand, kissed it. "Don't ever do that again, John Sheppard, or I will never forgive you!"

"Okay, Moira Sheppard, I won't."

She wiped her eyes, kissed him. "Rest, John."

"Wait. Am I...all there? I mean..." He shifted on the bed, felt his legs, his feet.

"Yes, John. You'll be good as new. It just takes time."

"Moy? There's something else, isn't there?" he realized, seeing her distress, her gaze darting all over, shyly meeting his. Reluctant. "Moira?"

"No. Rest, John. Please." She kissed him, moved to the table where Carson sat.

John stared after her, suspicious. Curious. Worried. "Moira?" He glanced at his son. The baby was sound asleep. John closed his eyes, trying to remember what had happened to him. Snatches of images filled his mind. Not making sense. Not in any order. He tried to listen as Carson and Moira quietly talked. Caught snatches of words, phrases. DNA. Double ATA. Blood work. Retro-virus. Jumping gene. Enzyme. Point of origin. Extermination. Speciation. The first. The words jumbled, nonsensical. He couldn't understand. Drifted to sleep once more.

Moira sighed. Ran a hand through her disheveled hair. Looked back to see John asleep. To see the baby beginning to stir in his stroller, making little sounds. She met Carson's gaze. "What do you think?"

Carson's blue eyes were wide. "I...I canna think, love. This is, this is incredible! The Wraith...the origin of the Wraith...my God! From the Ancients, well, those with the double ATA and all of that genetic tampering via the enzyme and the Medea gene in the male germline! It's incredible! Then natural evolution taking over, adaptation to survive in the most hostile environment! It's...it's..."

"I know," she agreed, touching his hand on the table. "But we can't tell anyone."

"What? Of course we need to tell everyone! We–"

"No, Carson. At best it's an academic exercise in where the Wraith came from, how they evolved from two separate species. Weir and the rest, they don't want to know where the Wraith came from, only where they are going. At worst...it's too dangerous. For Johnny. For John." Her voice fell to a whisper, gaze solemn.

Carson's brow furrowed. "You said it yourself, Moira. To learn where they are going we need to know their origin, and now we do, incredible as it is. This has nothing to do with wee Sheppard, not really. Since only a few of us know about him. As for John, well..."

"Exactly, Carson! We can't risk either of them. If this ever got into the wrong hands... no. I won't allow it. Now tell me again."

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather wait until John is stronger? To hear this with you?"

"No. I need to know now. Before he does. I can explain it to him once he is better."

"All right, love." Carson patted her shoulder, brought up the data screen's files. "In essence wee Sheppard is fine. A perfectly normal human little boy. It's only his abilities that must be monitored. His stronger ATA will give him access to the whole city, in ways that we cannot even imagine. But it's only the gene, Moira, the double. Here. The jumping gene that twinned in his case. Two interlocking proteins that will react to Ancient technology."

"And those with the gene. John was right about that. And to the Wraith genome. But...Carson, if, if the enzyme was somehow introduced into him..."

"No, love," he assured. "Even if that happened he would not turn into a Wraith. The chemical bonding wouldn't mutate like it did with those others, because in addition to the enzyme they were also altered at a genetic level that frankly, we can't do right now. Not ever, I hope! His double ATA is significantly different from the other pairings, like Baldy's. Yes, I took a sample for comparison, just to be certain," he informed to her surprise. "I had to be certain that wee Sheppard was in no danger whatsoever."

Moira breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Carson! I was almost afraid to ask," she admitted. Glanced back to see the baby as he started to fuss. She met the doctor's kind gaze. "And, and John?"

"We will monitor him closely, don't worry. This piggyback gene could do nothing. Or have no affect for years. Or be ejected from his body by his immune system. His own ATA could eradicate it once he is stronger. Is healed."

"And if, if something triggers it?"

"Then...I don't know, love," Carson sighed. "I wish to God I did! But I don't. Given his earlier propensity for the retro-virus, and the enzyme...I cannot say what would happen. That progenitor's DNA is unlike anything I've ever seen, and I have no idea how it would interact with John's own. But I have ideas how to counter it, should the need arise. We will monitor him. It may be nothing, Moira. His own system may shake it off."

"I see." She forced the worry aside. The fear. "Carson, the files–"

"Are encrypted and only I have the password. Don't worry, love. Until we decide what to do they stay locked and secret."

"No. I have decided, Carson. We need to delete it. All of it."

"I'm sorry?" the doctor asked in surprise.

"Delete it. All of it," she repeated. "I will have the only copy. The only one. All files on this, on Johnny, on John, on the ATA, the double, the Wraith...delete it all."

"Now you know I can't do that, Moira. I will need those files to–"

"When you do need them I will have them, but only me. You must delete them! We have to protect Johnny! We have to protect John!"

John stirred, hearing Moira's voice. Her strained, emotional tone.

"We will, love. No one will see them, I promise you."

"I can't take the chance, Carson! I'm sorry, but it's too great a risk."

"Are you saying you don't trust our own people? You are being paranoid, Moira! You are under a great amount of pressure, of stress, I know, and you need to–"

"No! We need to delete those files now!"

John woke. Eyes open, hearing his wife's frantic tone. Sorrow surging in her voice. Responding to a threat he sat, forgetting his pain. Saw his son in the stroller, fussing as he woke. Saw Moira sitting near Carson, glaring as they argued.

"Moira, love, be reasonable. This is invaluable data, as you well know. I promise you, no one will access it."

"I can't take that chance, Carson! If not one of our own then what about an outside threat? An intruder infiltrating our systems? No. No one can learn about Johnny! What if another Ancient did? They'd kill him, Carson! Like they killed all the rest! Or use him like those ascended women of John's did! And John...no one will ever know about John! You know what will happen and I won't allow it! I won't! So you delete those files now!" Moira's voice was rising into hysteria and anger.

"Moira," Carson made a move towards her.

John was on his feet, IV tube plucked from his arm but he hardly felt it. He crossed the room with strong strides. He touched Moira's shoulder, startling her. "Do it," he ordered harshly, gaze on Carson who appeared equally startled.

"John!" Moira was turning to rise but his grip on her shoulder kept her in place.

"Good Lord, man, get back into bed!" Carson ordered.

"Do what she says! Now!"

"I can't, John, I–"

"Do it! You do exactly what she says. I trust Moira. Delete it all! And then," his glower slid to her, "you will tell me everything."


	10. Chapter 10

The Descent of Wraith10

Moira nodded. Touched John's hand on her shoulder, turned in her chair to see Carson deleting the files. One by one. Erased. The only existing copies on Moira's data pad now. Encrypted. She relaxed a little. "Thank you, Carson. It's for the best. Trust me on this."

"Moira...could you help me back to bed," John was swaying. Whatever adrenaline had propelled him to her was fading fast. Pain and soreness gnawed at his abdomen, his back.

"John! Help him, Carson!" she exclaimed, jumping to catch him before he fell.

Carson caught his other side and they helped him back to the bed. Carson fretted, re-filling the IV tube, reattaching it to John's arm. Shaking his head. He exchanged a look with Moira. Then left to give them some privacy.

John settled on the bed, seated. Relaxed a little as the drip eased his pain. He watched Moira settle the baby back into sleep with soft words, soft kisses. Assurances. She sat close to him and he took hold of her hand. "Start with Johnny," he instructed, glancing at the stroller.

Moira looked round, but they were quite alone. She scooted closer. Kissed her husband. "John, there is nothing wrong with Johnny. Not a thing. He's a healthy, happy, normal little boy."

"Except?" he prodded, frowning.

"Except he has the double ATA."

John rubbed his brow, remembering. "The doubles turned into the Wraith, right? I remember that. Is my son going to turn into a–"

"No, John. Absolutely not," she assured, her gaze locked with his. "Even if he is exposed to the enzyme he won't. The others were tampered with, genetically altered and mutated in ways we can't even begin to understand, much less attempt. So Johnny will not be in any danger from that. He's completely human. Just with a strong...strong in the Force," she amended softly.

John nodded. Eyed his sleeping son. "Okay, then. He's safe. That's all that matters, Moy. And only four of us know about him. And we will keep it that way." He met her gaze. "And me? I'm not going to turn into a bug again, am I?"

She briefly smiled. "No." She caressed his hand. "Nothing will happen to you, John."

"Okay. So? Tell me, Moy. Just tell me."

"We, um...we don't know. It, it may prove to be nothing."

"The enzyme?" He scratched at his abdomen. "I felt it."

"Yes. It kept you alive. Is healing you even now."

"So it's not the enzyme, is it? And if there are any side effects you will care of that for me, right, baby?"

"Yes, sweetie."

He kissed her. Caressed her cheek. "But there's something else, isn't there, sweetheart? Tell me."

"It may be nothing, John. You, you were exposed to that thing's genome. It's blood mingled with yours. When you were hurt, cut open like a..." She looked away as tears filled her eyes.

"Hey, hey, I'm fine now. All put back together, Moy." He drew her against him. Kissed her brow. "Ssh, sweetheart. I'm fine. Aren't I? Am I still human?"

"Yes. One hundred percent human," she assured, voice muffled against his chest. Her fingers catching on the scrubs. "We, we just don't know. There's something alien in your bloodstream. Carson called it a piggyback gene. Attached in a chemical bonding but dormant so far. He's not sure what it will do, if, if anything. It may metabolize. Your immune system may destroy it once you are stronger. Your ATA may neutralize it. Or, or it might be, be activated...months, even years from now. By anything. We just don't know! We don't know!" she mourned. "But you're fine, John, you're fine otherwise! No one, no one knows except Carson."

John stroked her back, her hair. Taking in her words. Her voice fraught with worry, with love. Sorrow. He considered carefully.

She sat free of him, concerned at his silence. His handsome, pensive face. "John?"

"I'm okay, Moy. Shit. Ah."

"Ah? What?"

"You're thinking of that dream. That vision. Remember? Of course you do. Far in the future starring my mutated self. Changed. You fear this is the beginning of that. The reason. Moira, that may never even happen! Those visions, nightmares, whatever, were induced by a hostile entity. They can't be true. Besides, you said it yourself. This may prove to be nothing."

"Yes, I...just...I..." she floundered.

He kissed her. "No. I'm fine. Carson can monitor me, right? Hey...what about children?"

"What children?"

He smiled. "Children. Our children. When we have another kid. Can this be passed onto him?"

"I...him?" He shrugged. She considered. "No. This piggyback gene can't be, um, passed on."

"You're sure? I'm sure as hell not giving up sex with Moira Sheppard. But if we need to prevent another pregnancy we can–"

"No. It can't be passed on. It's some biochemical thing that doesn't effect your germline or any other chromosomal–"

"Whoa, injured man here. Okay then. Got it. So our sons won't be affected."

"No they...what? Sons now?" She eyed him.

He smiled. "I'm thinking ahead, Moira, that's all. You know. To our squadron."

"Hilarious, John. Get some rest."

"Moy, um...if...if something does, um, happen to me...I mean if I..."

"I'm not leaving you, sweetie, ever. So don't you worry. You are stuck with me and with Johnny. And the whole squadron." He smiled. She smiled. Kissed him. "Now relax, colonel. You'll be fine. We'll all be fine. Nothing touches our little circle."

"Damn right it doesn't," he muttered, relaxing. Mulling over her words as she caressed his arm. Caressed his temples, fingers playing in his hair. Her body pressing close to his. All softness and curves. But not close enough. "Moira, get on top of me, baby."

"Ssh, sweetie. Not yet."

"At least get next to me. I want you. I want to feel every inch of you."

"Ssh, sweetie," she repeated. "Atlantis." She kissed him. Glancing over as the baby started to fuss again. She sighed. "I just get one down and the other one wakes up."

"Huh? Damn. Moy, you need to go down on me and–"

"Ssh!" She kissed him. Playfully ran her fingers along his crotch to make him smile. "Soon enough, colonel. Now go to sleep." She gently stroked. Up and down. Up and down.

"Ah fuck that feels good. Moy...oh baby..."

"Ssh!" She leaned close, kissing him. He caught her hair, drew her gently into another kiss. Another. She giggled, straightened. "Tickles," she whispered about his beard. He grinned. "That's enough, colonel, or you'll have me riding you on the infirmary bed."

"Good. Keep stroking me like that and you'll have to ride me, baby. Ride me hard."

She freed him. Stood. "Rest, sweetie. I need to take care of our son." She moved to the stroller. "Hush darling. Mommy's here. There you go." She lifted him, kissed him. The baby gurgled at her, happy in her arms. Began to prattle.

"Hey, Moy, did he...did he speak Latin or did I just imagine that?"

She turned to him. "He did. That wasn't a dream, John. He did. And you understood him."

"I did? Yeah...I did," he recalled. "What the...is he okay? Captain?"

The baby gurgled, grinned. "Dada! Dada goo!"

"Yes, John, he's fine. Back to normal. Now rest, sweetie. Oh oh...somebody needs a change!"

"I don't think it's me," John quipped, causing Moira to softly laugh.

"No, colonel, it's the captain this time. Here we go, darling."

"Mama! Mama mama goo!" the baby chortled, fussed as she set him in the stroller, wheeled him towards the bathroom. "MAMA!"

"Hush, Johnny! There's no need to shout! I know, just a second here," she chided gently, glancing back at John. He had settled, watching them. Relaxing. "Rest, John," she called. "That's an order. Here we go, darling."

John smiled, watching them disappear into a room. The baby's voice still carrying through the closed door. He laid back, thinking over all the revelations. About his son. About himself. Trying to remember everything they had learned about the Wraith, the double ATA carriers. Everything that had happened. The ship hummed. He could barely hear Moira's voice as she changed the baby's diaper. He closed his eyes wearily, waiting for them to return. But he sat, scratching at the bandage. The itch was increasing. Becoming irritating. He lifted the scrubs to see his waist.

"John! What the bloody hell are you doing?" Carson hastened to him as his patient was tearing at the bandages, removing them.

"It itches like hell, doc! Like before when I was shot and the enzyme healed me."

"I see. Let's take a look then, shall we! Stop! I don't want you infected!" Carson batted the other man's hands away and undid the bandages carefully.

"Carson...Moira told me. Everything."

He paused, meeting John's gaze. "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll be fine. I'll be monitoring you just in case, but if anything were to happen I believe it would have happened already. Plus I do have some ideas no how to counteract anything that could develop. There. My God..."

"Huh?" John looked down as the doctor was staring. "Oh." John had expected to see scars, stitches. Red, raw wounds and other signs of his grievous injury. Instead there was only a faint scarring along the stitches. The flesh pink, healthy, not raw or wounded. Puckered a little but otherwise fine. "Is that bad?"

"No. That's good. The enzyme must be accelerating your healing. Your immunity as well, I trust. I'll just remove those stitches and I think you can go."

"Go?"

"Yes, back to your cabin to rest. Moira and wee Sheppard have been sleeping here every night and it's not good for either of them. Just take it easy, John. That's an order. I'll get my kit. Lay back and relax." Carson disconnected the IV.

John reclined, looked over as he heard his son giggling. A happy, carefree sound. He heard Moira laughing as well. He smiled. "Make it quick, doc. I don't want my family to see this. Ow!"

"Hold still, then, colonel, would you?" Carson snapped, but smiled at the sounds of merriment as well. Sounds of normalcy. Of mother and child.

Moira finally emerged from the bathroom, baby in her arms. "Sorry about that, John! He needed a change and then he got hungry and then he had a little...oh. John?" She froze, staring at the empty bed. Her heart skipping a beat.

"It's all right, love. I've released him."

"You...you what?" she exclaimed, staring at Carson.

"He's healing. Incredibly fast. The enzyme. I had to remove the stitches before his flesh closed completely over them. He needs to take it easy, however. I sent him to your cabin."

"Oh." She relaxed. "Okay. I'll look after him. Let's go see daddy, Johnny." She set the baby into his stroller, rolled him across the infirmary. Stopped. "Carson...what should I look for?"

Carson considered. "Any personality changes. The enzyme reactions, which you know very well. Any continued lapses in memory. Test him on recent events. I f he's healing this fast his memory should be returning just as rapidly."

"Okay." She hesitated. "Um...if...I mean...he um..." She blushed.

Carson smiled, guessing her question. Her concern. Knowing the effects of the enzyme sometimes included increased appetites, sexual among them. "Yes. Just be gentle with him, Moira. Make sure he doesn't overtax himself."

"Okay, I mean I...Carson!" she flared as the doctor laughed. "Fine! It's not funny!"

"No, I'm sure it isn't funny to John, now is it, Moira?" Carson teased. "Just not too gentle, however. You wouldn't want to waste the energy he has, nor would he."

She rolled her eyes. "Men! Let's go, darling. Men," she muttered under her breath.


	11. Chapter 11

The Descent of Wraith11

John was seated on the bed, staring at nothing. Hands clasped together on his lap as his thoughts flitted over several things at once. Emotions rising and falling. He looked up as Moira entered, pushing the stroller in front of her. "Hey, Moira. Captain."

"Hey, John. How do you feel?" Moira asked, gaze assessing.

"Dada! Dada goo!" the baby cried happily. Prattled. Little arms waving at his father.

John smiled. "Okay."

"Did you eat? We grabbed a quick dinner on the way," she explained.

"No. I'm not hungry. Not yet, anyway," he added to her concerned gaze. "I'm fine, Moira."

"Could you watch Johnny? I really need a shower."

"Yeah, I noticed," he quipped. "Go on, sweetheart." He watched her roll the stroller to him.

"Be good for daddy, Johnny. I'll be back in ten." She looked at John a moment, as if deciding whether or not to trust him with the baby. She knew he needed time with his son. Time with her. With himself. She entered the bathroom.

John gently rolled the stroller back and forth as his son prattled. "Easy, junior."

"Za! Za za, dada! Dada goo za za?"

"Not yet, son. Daddy needs to heal first. Then za za."

"Dada za za goo?"

"Later, buddy. Here." John leaned, winced. Handed the baby a toy. He watched the baby play with it. Little hands turning it this way and that until part of it ended up inevitably in his mouth to suck. To gaze on his father. John listened to the running water. Imagined his wife naked under the hot flow, suds running over her curves. He felt himself stir at the thought, smiled.

Moira quickly showered. Worrying. Wondering. She finished, emerged. A pale green nightshirt draped her somewhat wet body. "Okay, Johnny, here we go. John? Do you need anything?" she asked, as her wet hair straggled along her. Dripping onto the floor.

"Yeah. A shower. No," he held up a hand, forestalling her. "I'll be fine. I'll holler if I need you, baby. Get him to bed." He stood, gaze raking over her. Then entered the bathroom.

Moira stared after him, recognizing the look he had given her. One of sensual interest. Desire. Hunger. She swallowed. Both attracted and concerned all at once. She carried the baby to his cradle. Changed him into his blue sleeper. Flung her hair over her shoulders. She smiled at the baby's expression as water hit him. "Sorry, darling! Mommy got you all wet, didn't she? Silly mommy!" The baby giggled, cooed. Bright blue eyes on her. She tickled him. Kissed him. Nibbled his ear to make him giggle in delight. He laughed. She laughed. "Silly Johnny!"

"Mama! Mama goo!"

"Yes, silly darling!" She caught his little hands in hers. "Yes, Johnny. Johnny got wet, didn't he? Oh no! Johnny got all wet!" S he paused, hearing the water stop in the bathroom. Listening in case John needed her, but nothing sounded amiss. The baby prattled, giggled. Yawned.

"Yes, Johnny, time to go to sleep, isn't it? It's been a long day. A long, long week. Hasn't it, darling?" She kissed him, fussing over him. Softly hummed. "Go to sleep, darling. Everything's fine now. Don't you worry." She leaned over him, kissing him again. Stroking his rosy cheek, his little arm. She straightened suddenly, whirled.

John was standing near the bed. Clad in nothing but a towel that was perilously slipping down his wet hips. Water sparkled in his hair, on his skin. Stray drops gleaming in his chest hair. Down his arms, his legs. His waist. He licked his lips. Gaze riveted on her. "Is he okay, Moy?" he asked. Voice low, gruff. Desire humming through it.

"Yes, John." She moved to him, staring. Ran her hand slowly down his chest. Down his waist, gently. A soft gasp escaped her lips. She gently, so gently touched the scars. Fading scars. "Wow...this...this..."

"Yeah. Enzyme, the doc said. Still sore, though. Weren't you going to check my ordnance, baby?" he asked, catching her hand.

"Come to bed, John. You need to rest." Her fingers caught the towel. She met his gaze. He smiled. "No."

"No?" He raised a brow.

She tried to ignore the warmth, the passion in his brilliant green eyes. The promise of sensuality on his face, on his lips as he smiled. Almost smugly. Expectantly. As if he knew how gorgeous he was, how irresistible. How she was reacting despite herself to his allure, his need. His hunger. Her body yearning to surrender to his. Wanting him. Needing him. Moira frowned. Hit his chest suddenly.

"Ow! What the–" he protested.

"Don't you ever do that again, John Sheppard! I swear to God if you do that again I will divorce that fine, fine ass of yours! Do you hear me?"

"Do what, exactly?" he asked, perplexed. Pissed at the delay.

"Don't you ever choose me over Johnny! Ever!" she clarified.

"Oh. That," he replied mildly to her outrage. "Then I guess you'll have to divorce my fine, fine ass, baby."

"Damn it, John, I'm serious!"

"So am I, Moira."

"Fuck you, John!" she flared. Furious. She freed the towel, whirled to yank down the blankets.

He smiled. "With pleasure, Moira." He pushed her onto the bed, onto her stomach. Yanking up the nightshirt as she squirmed. He moved over her, grunted. Towel falling aside to allow his sudden erection to press her naked rear, between her thighs.

"John? John! You–"

"I need sex, baby! Now!" he ordered. He turned her face to the side to kiss her. A hard, probing kiss. He drew back. Hands sliding under her to grab her breasts. To haul her up, lifting her rear now. Fingers sliding to her cleft to probe.

"John! John, you–" she protested, squirming, caught between desire and anxiety. But he thrust into her, already hard, already stiff with urgency.

"Fuck yes! Fuck! Up! Up, damn it! On your knees, baby! So fucking sweet it hurts!" He pulled out, breathing heavily.

"John! Oh John, John, you oh John!" Moira cried, squirming, scrambling to her knees, not knowing if he was pissed or aroused or both. John pushed her against the wall, on his knees behind her now. He grabbed her hips, yanking her out some. Thrust into her. Groaned loudly. Moira writhed. There was nothing to hang onto, nothing to grab. She ended up arching, grabbing his arms as he thrust, thrust, deep and hard. Grunting with each motion, cock engorged, sliding ruthlessly into her. Moira clenched hard on him, but it only seemed to encourage him. She moaned, nearly fell. John's hands slid up under the nightshirt to catch her breasts. To fondle the nipples, gently squeezing. Squeezing until she winced a little, gasping in surprise. His hands slid down to her cleft, probing the entrance, searching, seeking. Moira whimpered, squirming, trapped between the wall and him. Between his thrusting, thrusting cock and his probing fingers. She tried to catch his hand, to pull it away but he was too strong.

"John!" she cried. "John, no! Not a double! Not a...John, oh John!" she stuttered, pleasure rushing, racing. The climax slamming into her all at once.

"Fuck fuck fuck! Baby, it's not enough!" he growled. He pulled out of her. Moira caught her breath, but John's hands were on her again. "Down!" he ordered. Pulling her to turn to him. He kissed her, tongue thrusting into her mouth. Devouring as he eased her onto her back. He slid over her. Kissing her repeatedly until she murmured, moaned, gasping for breath, for air. He freed her mouth. Lifted to yank the nightshirt out of his way. He kissed her breasts now, nibbling, sucking to make her squirm, moan. Flood anew. Biting gently to make her gasp, make her softly cry out as the arousal was hot, wild. Alarming.

John moved lower. Erection throbbing. The feel of her body inviting. The taste of her arousing. The scent of her driving him wild. He slid up, thrust in hard. Groaned and kept thrusting. Harder. Faster. Riding her hard now, rocking the cot so it squeaked, slid slightly on the floor. Moira writhed under him, legs flung wide. She clutched his arms, moaning as the pleasure was sharp, almost too intense. He grunted, groaning. Mouth catching hers again. Nibbling down to her throat. His breath hot, heavy on her. His scraggly beard scratching her, abrasive. Moira arched. Nails on his back as she cried out over and over. Orgasms spinning one after the other. Pulsing wildly over him, on him. John was moving ceaselessly, pounding into her now, still so big, so hard. As yet unrelieved.

Moira whimpered, moaning his name which only excited him. Clenching hard on him which only make his cock stiffen, his balls ache with the need for release. She sobbed as pleasure flooded. As the pleasure slid towards pain. As if John would never let go, would never stop until he had gone through her but he came at last. Groaning loudly, spurting inside her. Shuddering, shaking, straining to possess all of her, to be as intimate as two lovers could be. He slowed. Thrust hard a few more times, expending the last of his lust. He fell upon her with a sigh. Exhausted. Sated. Swear words proliferating in a rasping, husky voice.

Moira caught her breath, tired to move but he was still in her. On her, pinning her down. His head on her breasts. She blinked past her tears to look over at the cradle. The baby was fussing, stirring. Awoken by his mother's cries, his father's grunts. She finally felt John move. Slide out of her. He trailed kisses up her throat. Across her lips. Almost as an afterthought. He rolled off her onto his back, almost off the narrow cot. He was silent.

She scrambled off the bed, pulling down her nightshirt. She moved to the cradle. "Ssh, Johnny, ssh, it's all right, ssh..." she soothed, as a wave of tears assailed her. She lifted the baby to her, cuddling him. He pouted, clutching. Gurgled with small, sniffling sounds. "Ssh, ssh, please, ssh," she whispered. Hiding her face in his silky hair. Turning away from the bed. From John.

John caught his breath. He touched his abdomen. A thin trail of blood from his injury stained his hand. He looked down. Assessing. Then at Moira and his son. "Moy? I...um..." He was a loss for words. Torn between satisfaction and concern. Torn between enjoyment and puzzlement. The sheer sexual dominance vying with more tender concerns. "Get back here, baby. Get back into bed."

Moira heard the altered tone. Felt a shiver. She cuddled the baby as he began to cry. "Ssh, ssh, darling, I know. It's all right." She glanced over her shoulder to see John watching. But sprawling lazily. His eyes closing as he was drifting to sleep. Not seeming to care if she was with him or not, now that he gotten what he wanted. Had taken what he wanted. She carried the baby to the bathroom, shut the door. Moved to a corner to sit with him. Holding him. "Ssh, ssh, Johnny. It's all right, I promise you. It's all right..." But sobs escaped her. Tears falling onto her son as he cried as well. Little sobs mirroring her own. He clutched at her. She rocked him, rocked herself. "It will be all right, Johnny. Daddy will be himself now. He will be himself now. He should be fine now...he'll be himself, okay? We're fine, Johnny, we're fine...we're fine. He didn't mean it, Johnny, he didn't mean it, didn't mean it..."

Moira calmed. Calmed the baby. She stood. Washed her face. Washed the baby's. Looked in the mirror. Mother and baby both appearing miserable. Uncertain. "No. It's all right, Johnny," she whispered. Kissed him. She opened the door. Carried the baby to the bed and froze.

John was still sprawled on the bed, limbs in repose. But he was awake. His gaze almost gleaming in the darkness as the dim lights in the wall hit his green eyes when he sat. He was silent a moment, studying them, as they studied him. He blinked. Touched his abdomen. Looked down to see the fading scars. Felt the soreness suddenly. He looked back at his wife and son. "Um...Moy?" He could see she was upset. Had been crying. As had the baby. "Moira? Did I...did I hurt you?" he asked quietly. Dread in his heart as the thought. The very thought of hurting his wife unfathomable. Hurting her during sex.

Moira swallowed. "No, John," she answered calmly. But she didn't move. Just stood there.

"I...I'm sorry, Moira...I just...I...is he okay? Look, I just...what happened here, Moira?"

She eyed his genuine puzzlement, as he sounded more like himself. "Are you okay, John?"

"Huh? Yeah, I..." he looked down again. "Just a little blood, that's all. It's sore but...Moira? I didn't hurt you, did I? I'd rather die than ever hurt you," he solemnly stated. Met her gaze.

"You didn't hurt me, John," she assured, feeling a flush to her face.

"I...are you sure? I mean...what did I... I mean...Moy?"

"Shall I tell you, John?"

"Yes, Moy, please. The enzyme, right?"

"Yes. The enzyme," she said to his relief, but his relief was short-lived as she continued, "but not all of that was the enzyme's affects. Most of that was, was you."

"Me? I...huh? Moira, I swear, I would never knowingly hurt you! I would never–"

"I know, John. I understand."

"You do? And that's why you are just standing there holding our son like a shield?" he snapped.

Guilty. Confused. "Look, I just needed sex. Okay? I needed you. I wanted you. Wait, wait, this was the mating thing, right? The ATA attraction stuff, right?"

Moira shook her head. "No, John. I told you. It was the enzyme, but mostly it was just you."

"Just me? Me how? Moira? Get that pert little ass over here so we can talk!" he snapped. Regretted his tone as the baby fussed, clutching his mother. "Shit! Sorry, sorry! Fuck, it is the enzyme, damn it! The enzyme!" he insisted.

Moira kissed the baby, cuddled him. Took a step closer to the bed. Stopped. "I understand, John. You, you almost...you died, John. You died! And we lost you. We almost lost you, and you almost lost us. Almost lost me. You needed to feel everything, to feel alive, to feel like you were in complete control...that you were alive and here and so was I."

He considered. "Yeah, okay...yeah. I...yeah. I just needed to...the enzyme. The enzyme made it so fucking intense, Moy...I just...I had to have you. I had to–"

"It's all right, John."

"More than all right, baby! It was fucking sweet, so fucking tight I thought I'd die or...oh." He rubbed his eyes. Looked at her. "Um...yeah."

Moira had to smile at his sudden consternation over his swaggering boast. Utterly male. Utterly John. She kissed the baby. Moved onto the bed at last. John reclined, uncertain. But Moira nestled next to him, keeping the baby between them. "Hold us, John. We need you to hold us."

"Okay. I can do that." He touched the baby's back as the infant clasped his mother's nightshirt. He slid his arm across the baby, across her, drawing them both to him as he turned carefully onto his side to face them. "Moira...I'm sorry. I...I didn't hurt you?"

"No, John, you didn't. Now go to sleep."

He brushed his lips across hers. "Okay, Moira. We're fine, right? Nothing touches us. Our little circle here. Moira?" He closed his eyes, too drained to pursue, to think, even to feel.

"Go to sleep, John," she whispered, closing her eyes. Keeping the baby close as he cooed, content. As John's arm snaked along her waist, keeping her in place.

As the slight unease, the intimate soreness was only rivaled by the uncertainty in her heart.


	12. Chapter 12

The Descent of Wraith12

John woke from a tangle of weird dreams. Memories of the progenitor. The beautiful woman in the tank who was partially Wraith. The one who had cut him open and nearly ended his life. The red lights flaring over his wife and son. Sex with Moira. Taking her so roughly, lustfully. One moment it was Moira writhing under him, the next it was the woman with red hair. Appetite voracious, wanton. Demanding more and more of him as if to drain him dry. So he pounded into her to make her stop. But then it was Moira again under him, taking all of him as he drove her to rough heights of pleasure, then himself. Relentless.

They had enjoyed rough sex previous to this, but he knew that this had been different. Blamed the enzyme. His confusion. He wondered if he had inadvertently crossed a line, recalling her sorrow. The baby's crying. He scowled. Guilt vying with the sheer salacious enjoyment of the sex. Satisfaction colliding with concern. The enzyme made him not give a damn what she thought or felt. His love for her did.

Someone was touching him. A little hand patting his face, tugging cautiously at his scraggly beard. John tried not to smile, not to react. The baby gurgled. Softly prattled. Testing this strange growth on his father's face. One little hand caught his father's nose. Gripped. "Hey!" John protested, opened his eyes. Met the bright blue gaze of his son. The baby grinned. "Very funny, junior." He freed his nose from his son's grip. Tickled his tummy to make the infant giggle. "Moy?"

"Here, John." He glanced over to see her sorting through some papers, her back to him. Ponytails snaking down her back across her blue shirt. Dark pants hugging her rear.

"Dada? Dada goo! Dada za? Za za!"

He eyed his son. The baby was clad in yet another sailor suit of blue and red. "Not yet, captain. Hey, Moy, this kid is Air Force. Stop dressing him like a Navy guy, all right? Dress him like a pilot, would you?"

"And how would that be, exactly? The only pilot I see is stark naked," she quipped.

"Oh. Well..." He smiled as she turned. Stood. Moved to the bed. His smile faded under her serious gaze. "Moira?"

"How do you feel, John?"

"I..." He glanced at the baby who was solemnly watching him. All mirth gone from his chubby face. "What is it? What is with you two? I'm sore, aching, tired. Well?"

"Mama goo." The baby crawled to the edge of the bed to reach her.

Moira lifted him, kissed him. "Rest, John."

"Wait. What's going on with you two? It's like you're leagued against me or something!" he accused. He sat, grimaced. Touched his abdomen. "Moira!"

"Don't be ridiculous, John. Rest." She set the baby into his stroller.

"No...you are. You are! Ah. I know what this is about. Because you're still pissed because I won't choose. Is that it?"

"Here we go, darling." Moira settled the baby who was prattling at her. Both ignoring John.

"Damn it, Moira! Is that it? Moira!"

She sighed. Moved to him. "Keep your voice down, John! You'll upset Johnny!"

"Then fucking answer me! Don't you dare ignore me, woman!" he flared. The surge of anger hot. Fury like a tide in him.

She sat close. Touched his arm, felt the tension. "I'm not ignoring you, John. Relax. We're not leagued against you. How could we be? You are everything to us. To me."

He relaxed a little, somewhat mollified. "Then kiss me," he pouted.

She smiled. Kissed him. "There. You need to–"

John pulled her into a longer kiss. Hands grasping her arms, keeping her close. Kiss after kiss, each more aggressive then the last. Until she drew back, glancing at the stroller as the baby started to fuss. "No." John turned her face to his, caught her mouth again. "You keep that pert little ass right here, baby."

"John, relax." She tried to move but he held her in place. Fingers tightening on her bare arms. The baby fussed. "John! I need to–"

"You need to take care of me, Moira! Johnny's fine. Just showboating again." He kissed her, pulling her against him. "I want you, Moy. I want that sweetness, that tight, tight little pussy. Fuck I want to fuck you until you scream my name," he said hotly into her ear. Ran his mouth down her throat as the anger was being replaced by hunger.

Moira freed herself. Stood. "Rest, John. You're still not..." She moved to the stroller, trying to stay calm. Reacting despite herself although her passion was tempered by caution.

"What?" He blinked. "Moira? I...oh um...shit. The enzyme...it must be the enzyme, right?"

"Go to sleep, John. We'll be back in an hour. Maybe two." Her voice was soft but terse. She wheeled the fussing baby out of the cabin.

John swore, staring after her. Wanting her. Angry. Worried at the same time. His emotions were strong, swinging back and forth when normally he had everything under control. He laid back, closing his eyes.

Moira sat in the mess hall. Gently bouncing the baby on her lap as he sucked on a toy. "And?"

Carson set down the Ancient scanner. "Nearly normal, according to this. From the sample you've given me, nearly so. That nearly part troubles me. But it's less than yesterday," he confided quietly. "Injury?"

"Healing rapidly," she answered just as quietly. "Too rapidly, but we expected that because of the enzyme. He has faint scars now. It still pains him from time to time. When he's not...well...when he's himself."

"Himself? What do you mean? Has his personality been altered?"

"Ga! Gaga Carsh!" the baby prattled, freeing his toy to grin at Carson.

Carson smiled. "Is that so, wee Sheppard? We can all see your sparkling personality, my lad!" He tickled the baby's tummy. The infant giggled.

Moira smiled, kissed the baby. But grew solemn. "Yes. I mean he's mostly normal, himself but sometimes...there are flashes...episodes, I guess. Not that he would ever hurt me or Johnny...just..." she struggled to explain, trying not to blush at the memory of last night. Of the rough, rough sex. "A rather fierce intensity. I can't quite explain it. It's John...but it's not."

"Hmm. Could be the trauma of what he's been through, both physical and emotional. The medications. Like the last time, remember? Plus the enzyme...it's unlike other versions we've encountered so it could be affecting him differently. We'll monitor him closely."

"Ga zoom! Za za zoom!" the baby proclaimed, waving his toy plane in the air. Grinned.

"Yes, wee Sheppard. You are certainly happy today," Carson smiled. Tickled the baby. The infant gurgled. "Is this your plane plane?" he asked, about to touch the toy.

"Get your hands off my son!"

They froze. The baby hiccuped. Moira turned in her chair to see John standing. Stance a little awkward. Hand at his abdomen. He had on a black t-shirt, gray pants. He was clean-shaven. His hair still damp from the shower. "John? You should be resting!"

"I said get your fucking hands off my son and my wife!" he repeated, voice a growl.

"John!" Moira scolded, alarmed.

Carson sat back from them. Looked at the glowering colonel. "I see what you mean, Moira," he noted mildly.

"What? You've been talking about me? Behind my back?"

Moira glanced at Carson. "Like before, yes, but this is different. More intense. Could the enzyme have altered his brain chemistry to the point of altering his, his personality? Intensifying more aggressive behaviors?"

"Possibly, love, but I'm sure it's only a temporary–"

"Damn it! I'm right here!" John slammed his fist onto a table. The baby started to cry, scared at the abrupt violence. He clutched at his mother.

"John! Please!" She stood. "Please, sit down. You don't look so good."

"Don't I? Could you manage to take your eyes off Carson long enough to notice?" he flared. Irrational. Jealous. Angry. He swayed a little. "Fuck, I don't feel so good...you..."

Moira moved to him, eased him into a chair awkwardly as she still was holding the baby. "John, rest, please! Carson?"

"Let me check." The doctor stood, moved towards them.

John drew his gun. Drew it so fast the motion was a blur. "Stand down, doc, and stay the hell away from my family! They're mine, got it! Mine!"

"John!" Moira cuddled the baby to her, glancing at the doctor. "Get Rodney, please!"

"I'll get a sedative as well," Carson agreed, leaving.

Moira pulled a chair next to John's. Sat. Kissing the baby to soothe him. "Ssh, darling, ssh, ssh. John, please...the gun? It's scaring Johnny."

"Huh? Oh. Sorry. I..." John blinked. Stared at the gun in his hand. Wondered how it had gotten there. And why. He holstered it. Grimaced with pain suddenly. "Moy! What's happening to me? I...oh shit!" He hunched over as a cramp seized him.

"John? Easy, honey, help's coming! Ssh, Johnny, ssh." She tried to comfort both.

"It hurts, Moira, like the enzyme ripping me up on the inside, like before!" He complained.

"Hold on, John! Carson!" she cried. She sprang to her feet. Set the crying baby into his stroller. Knelt next to John, caught his hands in hers. "John? Can you hear me? Honey, hold on! Hold..." She froze.

John lifted his head. A predatory gleam in his brilliant green eyes. A quick smile on his lips. His hands closed on hers. "I still want it, Moira." He kissed her, yanking her up him, practically into his lap. She scrambled, careful of his injury but yielded to the kiss. Making his grip on her relax. The baby was crying loudly. Moira slid back. John smiled. "I still want you. Well, not you. I want that fucking tight little sodden pussy of yours until you beg, beg me to stop and I will keep fucking you anyway."

"I'm sorry, John," she said, heart hammering in her chest.

"Sorry? You should be, baby, for not giving yourself to me when I want it. You are going to suck my cock until you fucking choke on the–" Moira slapped him. Hard. "Ow! What the fuck was that, you little bi–" He hunched over suddenly. Moira leapt out of the way as he vomited. Fell from the chair onto his hands and knees.

"John! John, you... oh ew!" Rodney rushed. Froze. Moved to the stroller as did Moira. "Moira, are you okay?"

"Yes! Carson!" Moira cried, gathering the crying baby to her arms.

Carson rushed past them to John who was vomiting all over the floor. Heaving with the violent expulsions. "Whoa! Easy, easy, John! There you go, colonel. Just what you needed! His body is rejecting the enzyme at last."

"Obviously," Rodney noted, grimacing.

"Help me get him to his feet!" Carson stated as at last John had finished. Was about to collapse into the disgusting mess he had left on the floor. Rodney made a face but moved to help. Moira watched, cuddling the baby as he quieted at last, secure in his mother's arms again.

John's head ached. His stomach ached. He blearily opened his eyes. Squinted at the harsh lights of the infirmary. He felt a new bandage on his abdomen. Made out a form towering over him, blocking the light. Stern features coming into focus. Dread locks. A beard. Bare arms. Muscled. "Ronon?" he croaked. Moved slightly, trying to see if Moira was near but Ronon blocked his view. "What?" he asked at the continued glare. A thought dropped. Chilling him. "I...I didn't hurt them, did I? Oh my God...I didn't...Moira? Johnny? Moira!" he called.

"John." Moira stepped past Ronon. Touched his arm. "It's all right, Ronon. Please."

With a grunt the Satedan reluctantly stepped aside, but did not wander far. John met Moira's concerned gaze. "Moira. My...where's Johnny?" He looked around, moaned.

"In his stroller, John. He's fine. I'm fine. Don't you worry. Rest." She drew a chair close, drew the stroller to her. The baby was quiet, reaching earnestly. Moira lifted him. Stood a moment, debating. John waited, heart lurching in his chest. Stomach turning. She sat on the bed, set the baby between them. "How do you feel?"

John relaxed a little. Looked past her to see Ronon watching, standing guard. To see Rodney quietly talking to Teyla across the room. To see Carson working on a data pad. He looked at his wife again. "I...um...not good. Like that chick in The Exorcist. You know, the movie? Reagan. That was her name. I think I even puked pea green soup."

She smiled. Kissed his cheek gently. "Nearly. John...you...John..." She felt tears, forced them away. Caught his hand in hers.

"That bad, Moy? From what I can remember it was. I...I didn't hurt you, did I? Or Johnny?" He looked at his son. The baby was snuggling on his mother's lap. Little face sad.

"No, John. We're fine. Now."

"Now. I..." He stared at her. "The things I said to you, the way I talked to you like a..." He grimaced, appalled as the memory filled his mind. "That wasn't me. I mean it was, but it wasn't. Was it? Good God, Moira, I love you! I would never, never–"

"Hush, John, I know," she soothed softly. Kissed his cheek again.

"I...what the hell happened to me? I pulled a gun on Carson!" he recalled, moving to safer territory.

"Yes, you did, colonel," Carson agreed, joining them. "But I will overlook it just this once. You're fine now. Rest. Rest easy, Moira."

John stared as she visibly relaxed. "What does that mean? Moira?"

"You're fine, John," she agreed.

"You said that earlier, and obviously I wasn't," he complained.

"You're fine now, John. I promise." She kissed him on the cheek again. "Just–"

"What the fuck was that? Moira?"

"You're not minty fresh, John."

"Oh."

She smiled. "Your body rejected the enzyme. Like before, rather violently. It just took longer than we expected. You rejected that along with all of the medication and food you ate."

"Oh."

"You need to rest now, colonel, because your body will heal at a normal rate now. Let your mind heal as well. Those adrenal surges will cease and you'll be back to normal."

"Oh."

She frowned. Touched his arm. "How do you feel, John? Do you understand me?"

"Yeah. I'm not an idiot, baby."

"Just checking, honey."

"Hilarious, Moira." But he stared at her. Wondering why the endearment had changed. Missing her usual term of sweetie for him. He wanted to ask, but not with everyone watching. He laid back, groaned softly. "I feel like shit, er, crap. So sore. How's Johnny?"

"Fine now. Now that his father is more like himself. Go to sleep, John. I'll be right here with you. So will Johnny. We'll be right here until we get home."


	13. Chapter 13

The Descent of Wraith13

John grimaced, groaned. Scowled as he sat on the bed in the infirmary. Hating the bed. Hating the scrubs he wore. Hating the fact he had been confined here for almost a week. To heal. To be monitored. To be prodded and poked until he wanted to hit something or someone. To be fussed over by Elizabeth and Teyla. To be cajoled by Rodney and Ronon. To be back in Atlantis but not able to resume his duties, his job. To be separated from his wife and son although they spent several hours with him every day.

He looked over to see Moira reading a book. The baby was on her lap, prattling quietly as he played with a toy. Little hands clasping and unclasping it. He suddenly stared at his shoes. Touched one. Tugged it. Tugged it. Pulled it off. He grinned, prattled. "Mama!"

Moira put down the book. "Ssh, darling. Oh. No, Johnny. Keep your shoe on." She slid it back onto his little foot.

The baby pouted. Nibbled his lower lip like his mother did. He caught his shoe. Tugged. Tugged. Pulled it off again. Grinned up at her. "Za! Mama goo!"

She smiled. "Very funny, darling. Keep your shoe on." She tickled his bare foot, making him giggle. Slid on the shoe and kissed him. "Now keep it on, silly."

"Ga!" The baby looked over, saw his father watching. "Dada? Dada goo?"

"Hey, captain. I don't like shoes either."

Moira stood. Moved to him, baby in her arms. "John. How do you feel?"

"Sore. Tired. Hungry." He met her gaze. "What's the word? Will Carson release me at last? Into your tender care?"

She shrugged. "I'm not sure...he's still running tests. He wants to be sure that you are completely healed and, and clear of that enzyme." Her gaze darted away, then back to him.

"Okay," he relented, seeing her hesitation. "Whatever he decides, then. Captain, you better be looking after your mother."

"Dada goo," the baby agreed.

Moira hesitated. "We need to have some lunch. We'll check on you later, John."

John nodded. Frowned as she left, the baby prattling in her arms. It was as if she wanted to escape him, escape his company. He wondered at her aloofness, his son's uncertainty. He watched Carson approaching. "Hey, doc...am I okay? I mean...I'm me, right?"

Carson smiled. "Yes, John. One hundred percent you. Healing normally. You will need to take it easy and you won't be on active duty for at least another two weeks or so."

"So that means you will have plenty of time to fill out all those reports," Elizabeth noted, nearing with a smile.

John groaned. "Wonderful," he muttered.

"How soon will you feel up to the debrief over the mission?" she asked.

John considered. More concerned about Moira and Johnny. "Um...soon. Give me a couple of hours or so to remember everything. And get my bearings."

"All right. There's no rush...but we do need to know what happened, John. What you discovered on Earth, not to mention what happened afterwards. Carson's been so busy healing you he hasn't had time to fill me in on anything."

John glanced at Carson. The doctor's expression was neutral. But a look passed between them. John met Elizabeth's gaze. "Yeah, well, I was pretty banged up and all. We'll have that debrief ASAP. I did save the galaxy, so I think I deserve one day off."

Elizabeth laughed. "Yes, John, of course. Take two, even."

John smiled, but worry gnawed at him. He had indeed saved the galaxy. He pondered if he would be needing to save his marriage next.

The baby exclaimed. Clapped his little hands. "Mama! Mama!"

Moira smiled, moved to him as he sat on the floor in their quarters. An activity box was in front of the infant. "What is it, darling? Oh! Look! You got it, Johnny! Green square!" The baby patted the piece he had successfully fit into the green square. It lit up. Music played. He exclaimed again. Moira kissed him. "Now...what's this one, Johnny?" She pointed. "A circle. See? Circle. And what color is that? Blue!"

"Boo!"

"Yes, blue. What will that fit into? What shape is that, darling?"

"A circle." John had quietly entered, stood watching them. His gaze taking in Moira's long, loose hair. Buttoned down pale green shirt and dark pants. The baby in blue and navy. Another sailor suit to John's chagrin. "I'm surprised you didn't know that, Moira. Are you sure you graduated from college with a degree?" he jested.

Moira met his gaze, scowling. "Hilarious, John." She stood, eyes traveling over his blue t-shirt and jeans. One hand at his abdomen. "How are you feeling?" She took a step towards him, seemed to think better of it and moved instead to the table.

"Sore. After all of that poking and prodding. Carson's released me." His gaze lingered on her a moment, then he eyed his son. "So, captain, what's this?" He sat across from the baby. Smiled at the little face, all serious concentration. Little brows furrowed. "What's this, captain?" he repeated. "A circle. Round."

"Dada goo!"

John snorted at his son's irritated tone. "Sorry, buddy. Didn't mean to break your concentration." The baby gurgled, kept looking at the assorted pieces scattered around him. John grinned. "He's chewing on his lower lip, just like you, Moy."

"At least there's a little bit of me somewhere," she quipped.

John laughed. "More than a little, sweetheart." The baby prattled. Found the circle. He examined it. Put it into his mouth. "No, son, don't eat it," John admonished. The baby pulled it out of his mouth, placed it in the circular slot. It lit up. Chimed. The baby exclaimed. "Good for you, buddy!"

"Mama! Mama!"

"Yes, darling! Very good!"

"Hey, junior, what's this one?" John pointed. "See? A square. Like that." He pointed to a square piece on the floor.

"John, don't help him," she warned, glancing at the pair.

"Me? No way, Moy. He's on his own." Yet he surreptitiously pointed to the red square.

"John!" Moira scolded, trying not to smile. "No cheating."

"It's not cheating! It's instruction."

The baby grabbed the red square. Looked at his father who nodded. The baby placed it into the square slot. It lit up. Chimed. He exclaimed. "Ga! Mama, mama goo! Dada goo ga!"

"Yes, darling, I see. But daddy cheated."

"I did not cheat, Moira!" John protested. "Captain, what's this one? Ooh, a hard one." He smiled. Pointed. "A triangle. Oh oh! There's two on the floor!"

"John! Don't help him!" A knock made her move to the door, open it. "Rodney?"

The scientist entered, already talking. "...and I heard John was finally out of bed, at last and I have defined the exact coordinates for the hey, no no no no no, kiddo, that's not a triangle!" Rodney sat next to John, pointed. "That's an oval, see? A triangle is composed of three equidistant–"

"No cheating, Rodney," John said, glancing at his wife.

She laughed. "That's right."

They watched the baby frown. Searching among the pieces.

"Close," John said.

"Closer. To the right." Rodney pointed.

"No cheating, boys!" Moira scolded, shaking her head.

The baby touched a pink triangle. John and Rodney nodded. The baby grinned. Put the piece into his mouth, then into the slot. Nothing happened. No light. No chime. He pouted. "Dada?"

"Hey! He did it right! What's wrong with it?" John asked. "Moira?"

"It must be defective. Don't cry, kiddo, your Uncle Rod will fix it. Its probably just a loose wire or a fried circuit from the–"

"Uncle Rod?" John questioned with a smirk.

"No. He's wrong. It's the right shape but the wrong color," Moira explained.

"What? Oh..." John saw the purple outline. "That's not fair, Moira! Here, son." He pulled out the pink triangle, set it aside.

"How can he tell colors and shapes at his age?" Rodney exclaimed. "That's not fair," he echoed John's sentiment. "He got the shape right!"

"But not the color," Moira reiterated, amused at their outrage.

"Geez, what kind of toy is this?" Rodney lifted it, turned it upside down. "I'll rewire the set here so it works properly."

"It does work properly! Rodney, no!" Moira objected.

"No, let him fix it," John agreed with his friend.

"John! There's nothing wrong with it!"

"If I readjust the wires it should chime for the proper shape and I can–"

"Despite the colors, good, he should get something for getting it half right," John agreed.

"And I can increase the chime to a song or a–"

The baby started to fuss, reaching for his toy.

Moira sighed. "Boys!" She moved to them. Took the toy and set it near the baby again. "Try again, darling. Here." She kissed him. "Will you let him play with his toy?"

"It's too hard for him, Moira. I can rig it to–"

"No, Rodney."

"At least let him make it chime when junior gets the–"

"No, John. How will he learn that way? Will you let the baby learn like he is supposed to learn? You can do it, Johnny. Look!" She kissed him. "See the triangle?" She pointed at the shape on the board. "Where is that on the floor?"

"The purple," John began, but a glare from his wife made him smirk. "Sorry."

"I could rig it to light up whenever he..." Rodney paused as Moira glared at him. "Sorry."

"Why don't you boys go play with something else," she suggested.

"Ga?" The baby held up an oval.

"No," the two men chorused.

"Boys! Go!" she ordered.

The baby touched the purple triangle. At his father's and uncle's nod he picked it up. Put it in his mouth. Pulled it out and pushed it into the slot. It lit up. Chimed. "GA!" he exclaimed.

The men laughed, applauded as Moira laughed.

"Good for you, junior!"

"There you go, kiddo!"

"Okay, what's next? Ah...the oval?" John asked, pointing. "And the color is green so you need to...oh oh."

Moira stood, hands on hips. "Didn't you want John for something, Rodney?"

"I did? Oh yes! I did!" he replied, remembering. "The crystal interface. I've allocated more power to ease the drive pods and make the secondary systems more accessible. Come take a look, if you feel up to it."

"Okay." The two men stood. Headed for the door. John turned back to see Moira watching Johnny. He moved to her. Touched her lower back. "Later, baby, we'll play our own version of what fits where," he teased quietly.

She smirked. "I don't think so, John. Will it light up?"

He snorted. Grinned. "Oh yeah. And it will certainly chime. Repeatedly. Back in ten." He moved to kiss her but she stepped away from him to sit near the baby. John stared at her. Eyed his son. "Keep going, son, you'll figure it out." He looked at Moira again, concerned, curious. But turned and followed Rodney out of the room.


	14. Chapter 14

The Descent of Wraith14

When John returned the baby was in his crib, falling asleep. Moira stood near, caressing his back. Turning the mobile. Soft music played. The various aircraft circled and circled over the infant, catching his eye. But he yawned, gurgled. John studied his wife. Considered. Every time he drew near her she would evade him. As if reluctant to renew their intimacy. Her kisses were cool, chaste. Her touches gentle, almost shy. He knew it had something to do with what had happened on the Daedalus, but wasn't sure quite what. Unless it was something else entirely. With Moira he was never quite sure.

His gaze wandered over her as he lounged in the doorway between the two rooms. Following the strands of her billowing hair. Her curves. Wanting her beneath him. Wanting her all to himself. Wanting her love, her passion. The yearning evident in her brown eyes despite her aloof manner. He licked his lips as his body reacted to his erotic thoughts.

"John?" Moira had turned to see him staring at her. Thoughts obvious in his desirous gaze. "He's just falling asleep."

"Good. Time to play what fits where," he said, voice low.

"Hilarious, John." She turned away to view the baby. To adjust the blanket on him. To avoid reacting to her husband. To avoid the conflicted emotions.

"I'm serious, Moira," he countered. Stepped to her. Slid his arms around her waist and drew her gently against him. "Moira." He kissed her throat. Spoke into her ear. "I want you, baby. I want you sweet and slow. I don't want anything between us, Moira. And there is something between us. I promise you what happened on the Daedalus won't ever happen again. Not like that. You have to tell me, Moira...did I hurt you? Is that it? Tell me the truth."

She felt tears. Catching his hands at her waist. "No...you didn't hurt me. You–"

"Don't lie to me, Moira, or try to protect me. I have to know. Did I hurt you?" he repeated, feeling his gut tense. Forcing himself to be calm, patient. To not tighten his grip on her, around her. To not press himself into her as she shifted along him.

"You, you weren't yourself, John. I...I understand..."she evaded, tensing.

"That's not what you told me on the Daedalus. It was more me than the enzyme, that's what you said, so I have to know, Moira. I have to know. I can feel your reluctance, baby. Don't pull away from me, Moira. I don't want anything between us. So? Tell me the truth now." His voice was low, husky in her ear. Sincere. His warm breath tickling her skin. "Did I hurt you?"

Moira bit her lower lip. Wanting to tell him. Afraid to tell him. Her fingers tightened on his hands. Gentled to caress. "Yes."

One word. So soft John barely heard it. He became still, very still. Silent. Berating himself. Hating himself. Guilt and anger a dark tide until he swallowed it. He sighed. Closed his eyes. Hid his face along her hair for a moment, just drinking in the feel of her, the scent of her. "Moy–"

"No." She turned to him, tears in her brown eyes. Touched his jaw, his cheek. Lost herself in his brilliant green eyes. "It wasn't your fault, John, not, not entirely. It...the enzyme...you, you died...we..we almost lost you and you almost lost us and you needed...the enzyme, the–"

He touched her lips, halting her defense. "No. Don't, Moy. What I did...what I..."

"No!" She shoved free, unable to face it. Unwilling. "And it's not that! Not that! Johnny."

"Huh? What about him?" John glanced at the crib, glad for a reprieve but knew he had to face what he had done or it would fester between them.

"What you said about him," she clarified, on safer ground now.

"What I said about him?" He met her gaze, honestly puzzled. But Moira moved past him, out of the nursery. "What I..." He eyed the sleeping baby. Remembered. "Crap," he muttered. He left the nursery. Moira was standing at the table, folding baby clothes. "That? Moira? What I said about choosing–"

"Yes, John." She met his gaze. "You have to choose. You have to choose your son over me. If we are ever in a situation like that again you have to choose him over me! He's your son, John! Your son!"

John neared. "And you're my wife, Moy, so–"

"No! That doesn't matter! He's your son!"

"It does. To me." He stepped to her. Slid his arms around her. Drew her close but she pushed. He kept her close to him. Unyielding now.

"No! John, no!" She hit his chest. "Don't you love your son?"

"If course I love my son," he stated, irritated. "I'd die for him, you know that! He is the world to me!"

"Then–"

"But so are you, Moy! So no. I won't make that choice. Ever. Don't ask me to do that. Ever."

"You have to, John! You–"

"No! I won't, Moira, so stop asking me to choose! I won't!" He kissed her suddenly. Abruptly pulled her against him, hugging her to him. "I won't lose you, Moy, I can't. I just can't," he said into her hair, voice low. Emotion threading through it. "As much as I cherish our son I will not lose you. Ever. I can't lose you, Moy...I'd rather die."

"No! Don't say that! You can't say that!" she protested, half-heartedly struggling.

He kept her pressed to him. "It's the truth, Moy. I don't want anything between us. Not a damn thing. But I won't lose you. I can't. So don't make me choose. Don't ever make me choose, because you won't like the choice I make," he admitted.

"No! John, no, no, no!" she cried, appalled at his answer. His confession. His need for her, oblivious to anything else, anyone else. Even their son. She hit his chest, over and over. "No! Damn you, John, damn you! You can't–"

"I can and I will, Moy. That's the truth...so we will make damn sure it never comes down to that. I will never make that choice, Moy, unless there is no other option. I'd give my life for you, for both of you without any hesitation. You know that. But I...Moira." He caught her arms, pushed her gently back a little to view her face. Brown eyes full of tears that spilled down her rosy cheeks. Fury and sorrow mingling. "Can you ever forgive me, Moira? Not for this, but for that?"

"What?" she asked, hands on his chest. Fingers splaying along the t-shirt, suddenly afraid she might have hurt him. Forgetting he was still injured. She stared at his solemn expression. Brilliant green eyes full of guilt, of worry.

"I'd rather die than ever, ever hurt you, Moira. Ever. Especially, especially during sex."

She colored, regretting her admission. Chiding herself for succumbing to his demand for the truth. "I...I..."

"I need to make things right between us, Moira. If I have lost even an ounce of your trust in me, especially when we are being intimate I don't think I could, could take it. Moira...my Moira."

"I...I..." she stammered, uncertain. Embarrassed. Overcome by his absolute sincerity. Concern. Gravity.

John kissed her. A soft, gentle motion of his lips on hers. Savoring. Testing. Slowly his kisses grew more passionate. Deeper as her hands relaxed on his chest. Fingers pulling at his t-shirt. Soft murmurs trapped in her throat, in her mouth as he opened her lips to his. As his tongue shyly darted, seeking. His hands gentling on her now to caress. To woo. To persuade as he directed her towards the bed. His mouth slid along her cheek to her ear. To gently nibble. "I need you, baby, I need every inch of you. I need us so intimately entwined there's nothing between us. Sweetheart, I need you to trust me again, like that." He guided her onto the bed. Onto her back.

Moira clutched, clung. Kissing him repeatedly. Needing him as much as he needed her. Even more so as she desperately wanted nothing between them either. Desperately wanted to be able to trust him completely again. To have no doubts, no uncertainties when they were making love. Wanting things right between them again. "John, oh John...John..." she whispered.

"Ssh, Moira. Just you. Me." He kissed her, fingers sliding up under her shirt, her bra. Caressing her breast as his mouth slid down her throat. "Sweet and slow for my Moira," he promised. "As intimate as we can be. I want to make love, Moira...I want you to have no qualms, no doubts, no fears. Nothing but love for me."

"Oh John..." Moira sighed, melting. His slow, sweet seductions exciting, loving. His gentle caresses inviting, arousing. His kisses wandering now. His body pressing hers. Skin sliding on skin as he removed his clothing. Removed hers. Kissing her repeatedly. Hands gliding all over her, warm and gentle. Moira whimpered, arched as his mouth wandered down to her breasts. Gently sucking, kissing. His fingers playing between her legs now. Stroking. She caressed his hair, his shoulders. Her body welcoming his. Tensing despite herself, recalling the rough, rough sex on the Daedalus. The harsh sex. His harsh words.

But John moved slowly. Gently arousing. Making certain he didn't cause any alarm, any anxiety. Making certain she was more than ready to receive him. Would only feel pleasure. He slid into her, moaned quietly. Began a slow, careful rhythm. Body pressed to hers. Gaze locked with hers when his mouth wasn't entwined with hers. Moira moaned, sighed as the pleasure grew, grew. Deliciously sweet and slow. Each motion intimate, trusting. Careful. John was showering love and passion onto her, into her and she was helpless under it. Under him. He groaned softly, needing more but holding back, ignoring his own hunger. Going only a little faster, a little harder as she clenched on him. Flooding as his motions brought her closer, closer.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he softly breathed, coming despite trying to hold back. Thrusting harder now, deeper. Enfolded in her, by her. The warmth and snug moistness causing him to shudder, to spurt a little.

Moira rocked with him, crying out loudly. "John! Oh John, John, oh John!" The orgasm blossomed. Pulsing pleasure as he took her, filling her, driving her to erotic bliss. She kissed him deeply. His tongue thrusting into her mouth as his cock plied her, plied her. Faster, faster. Straining until the orgasm thudded, released.

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he exulted, pleasure riding him. Possession. He thrust hard, spurting. Shuddered. Slowed and fell upon her. Kissed her. Ran his mouth along her skin, teasing, soothing kisses, showering love upon her until he nestled on her. Face in her hair. Body pressed to hers, still within her. "Moira," he breathed her name.

"John...oh John..." she marveled, pleasure echoing. Relaxing. All fears gone. All trepidation eased by his thoughtfulness, his skills. She caressed his bare back. Shifting slightly under him now but he didn't move. Not yet.

"Moira.. My Moira." He lifted his head to meet her passionate gaze. Saw only love, surrender. No anxiety. Nothing but love for him. He kissed her. "Better, baby?"

She smiled. "Yes."

"Yes...what? Yes..." he waited, tensing. Needing to hear that endearment that had been missing from her speech for so long. For too long.

She stared, then understood. Smiled at his need for the word he once dreaded. Hated even. She kissed him. "Yes, sweetie. John's my sweetie. Always." He visibly relaxed, smiled. "Oh John...we should make love more often...like this...not just have sex."

He kissed her. "As ordered, baby. But I do love our sex. Kinky sex. Whenever you are ready." He slid out of her, rolled onto his back. Stretched languidly. "Ah fuck that was good. Sweet and slow. The way it should be between us."

Moira slid onto him, cuddled as his arm went round her. Keeping her in place. She kissed his chest, throat. Relaxing. "John...yes. Oh yes." But she grew serious. "John?"

"Hmm?" He stroked her back, her hair. Pleasantly drained. Drowsy. Enjoying the feel of her on top of him.

She considered. Fingers playing in his chest hair now. "John..."

"No post-coital, baby. That's the rule, remember?" He closed his eyes. "Fuck that was good. Give me...let's see...give me five. No. Six. Give me six. My Moira. Nothing. Nothing gets between us. Not even me," he mumbled, voice drowsy. Relaxed. Sated.

Moira smiled, amused at his tone. His pleasure. His rapid descent into slumber. She kept stroking his chest, cuddling. Shifting off his abdomen. Enjoying the feel of his body under hers. His love like a blanket over her. A shield protecting her. Protecting Johnny too, she knew. But wondered at his absolute refusal to make a choice. His chilling answer if he was forced to make a choice. She felt a shiver. John's arm tightened around her, as if sensing her emotion. She stared at the wall, thinking. Listening for the baby. Relaxing into their love.

John shifted. Rolled onto his other side. Winced. He opened his eyes. Moira was asleep, facing away from him. He smiled. Swept her hair aside to admire the curves of her back. Down to her shapely rear. He ran his fingers along her bare skin. Gently squeezed each cheek. She stirred, clenching in response. His cock stirred as he squeezed her rear again. "Moira." He spooned against her, pressing, pressing. Turning her slightly onto her stomach. Sliding his hand between her thighs to part them.

Moira woke, feeling John's nimble fingers. The press of his hardening cock along her rear. She tensed, memories surfacing rapidly. The way he had taken her on the Daedalus. "John, no."

He stopped. Suppressed a groan as he slid his fingers from between her legs. Body still pressed onto her. "Are you sure?" he asked into her ear. Kissing her throat, her shoulder.

"Yes."

"I...I won't take you like that again, I swear, baby. I can make this way as good as the other," he assured. Suddenly wanting her like this. This position.

"No."

He sighed. Kissed her shoulder again. Rolled onto his back. "Okay, Moy. But soon, right? I mean when you're ready to do it like that. I promise I'll be gentle. Extra gentle. You know I can't give up that pert little ass, baby."

"Shut up, John." She relaxed as he relented. "Go to sleep, sweetie. You need to rest." She turned to him, snuggled suddenly.

He kissed her brow, stroking her side. "Okay, Moy. Just let me know when you're ready for that. Okay? I promise I'll never hurt you again. I promise."

"Okay, John."

"Okay, Moira. My Moira." He inwardly sighed. Knew he had to tread very carefully here. But knew they would be fine. Knew she trusted him again. Knew she couldn't resist him for long.


	15. Chapter 15

The Descent of Wraith15

John snorted. Rolled over, reaching, reaching. His fingers only grabbed empty blankets. "Moy?" He opened his eyes. Sat to view the empty room. "Moira?" He frowned. Touched his abdomen. It was sore but otherwise fine. He pulled on his clothing. Entered the nursery, yawning. It was empty. He stared at the crib a moment. Turned hearing a sound in the other room. Moira's voice. The baby's prattling.

Moira wheeled the baby to the playpen. Saw the empty bed. "Here we go, darling." She lifted him, kissed him. Set him into the playpen. "Here." She handed him his plane plane.

"Mama ga! Mama, mama!"

"Ssh, darling. Play quietly." She parked the empty stroller near the table. Moved to the table.

"Za!" The baby crawled across the playpen, as if to follow her. Touched the netting blocking him. He pulled himself up onto his feet. Standing. Little hands clasping the netting but he couldn't reach the top. He pouted. "Za! Mama! Mama za!" he demanded.

Moira glanced at him. "What? What do you want, Johnny?"

"Za! Za!" He turned, fell onto his bottom. "Dada! Dada za! Dada za za!"

John grinned, moved to the playpen. "Za?"

"Za! Dada za!"

"Okay, junior."

"You know what he wants?" Moira asked, watching as John lifted the baby.

"You don't? That makes a nice change." He held the baby over his head. "Plane plane! Here we go, captain! Lift off in three. Two. One! Zoom!" He gently swung the baby in the air, making plane noises. The baby giggled in delight. Tried to imitate his father's sounds.

"Zoom! Zoom!" John said.

"Za! Za!" the baby cried happily as John walked round the room.

"Za! Za!" they both chorused, louder and louder. Each voice trying to outdo the other.

Moira barely heard the knock on the door. "John! John!" she called, but he continued. She laughed, moved to the door. Opened it. "Doctor Weir? Please."

Elizabeth entered, about to speak, but froze. John was walking in a circle, holding the baby above his head, gently moving him back and forth. Both proclaiming loudly.

Moira moved to intercept them. "John! Johns!" she all but shouted.

John stopped. "Moira?"

"Mama?" the baby echoed.

"Oh. Elizabeth." John lowered his son. Suddenly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Saw Moira's stare. The sensual interest. He smiled at her. Lifted his shirt to wipe the baby's drool off his face. Giving her a quick glimpse of his waist. "We were playing plane plane."

"Za," the baby added.

"Za," John agreed. Smiling over his sudden embarrassment.

"I did try to warn you, sweetie," Moira said to his admonishing look.

Jolted from her stare Elizabeth smiled. "Sorry. We're having a meeting in the conference room. About recent events. I wanted to see if you felt up to attending."

"Oh. Okay, sure. Moira, here." John tried to hand over the baby but he clung. Little hands grabbing his father's shirt. He started to fuss.

"John, he wants you," Moira said, caressing the baby's back. "Easy, darling. Stay with daddy."

"Moira, I have a meeting to–"

"Don't upset him, John," Elizabeth soothed. "He can attend as well. Besides, we need Moira too. All three of you, actually."

"Me?" Moira asked, startled. "I have things to–"

"Ah ha." John smiled. "You have nothing to do, so let's go, Moira." He herded them out of his quarters. "Ha ha,, junior. You won't get your way all of the time!"

"Says you," quipped Moira. Elizabeth laughed.

All conversation ceased as they entered the conference room. John held the baby on his lap, shrugged at the stares, the smiles. The look of annoyance from Rodney. The baby pushed, pushed at his father's thighs. "Pay! Pay, dada! Pay pay ooh!"

"What? He wants to get paid now?" Rodney asked. Laughter.

"Why not?" John retorted. "It's about time he earned his keep. He can buy his own beers from now on, huh, buddy?"

"Dada! Pay! Pay pay ooh! Pay pay ooh dada!"

John smiled, realizing. "Ah. Not now, junior." He met the stare of the others. Moira's equally puzzled expression. "We have our own military code."

"Dada! Dada ooh! Pay pay ooh! Dada!" the baby cried, whining.

"John," Moira began.

"No. He's just showboating. So, this last mission?" But all eyes were on the upset baby staring up at his father. Little hands on his chest. Big blue eyes full of tears. Lower lip stuck out.

"Dada! Dada goo? Pay pay oop! Pay pay ooh dada pay za!"

"I said no, junior, now hush."

"Go on, John, play the game," Elizabeth insisted, smiling.

"Yes, please! Or we will never get any peace!" Rodney agreed, rolling his eyes.

"Fine. Give us five." John stood, baby in his arms. "Guess you do always get your way, junior."

"Ga! Dada ga! Dada pay pay oop!" the baby prattled, happy. Tears gone.

"More plane?" Elizabeth asked.

Moira smiled, realizing. "No. A different game. Sorry, Johnny's rather insistent for attention today."

"So he is just like John," Teyla quipped. Laughter.

"I heard that!" John called from the hallway. More laughter.

Silence. Then the baby's giggles. Prattling. Silence. John's quiet voice. The teasing tone, exaggerated. More giggles. John's laughter. Silence. Silence.

"Is that it?" asked Ronon.

"No. The big finish is coming," Moira answered.

John's voice, tone even more exaggerated. Silence. Silence. A sudden explosion of laughter from the baby. John's laughter.

John lifted his son, lifted him high as he stood. He lowered the infant, kissed him. "There, you tyrant! No more games of whoops, okay? Now behave, captain. I expect military discipline."

"Dada! Dada goo! Dada pay pay za dada oop ooh! Dada, dada, dada!"

"Yes, now hush, captain." He carried the baby back to the conference room. Shrugged. "Sorry." He sat next to Moira, handed the grinning baby to her. "Here, he's all yours now."

"Mama! Mama, goo! Mama! Dada pay pay oop za oop dada goo!"

"Yes, darling, now ssh." S he kissed him, held him. Caressed his back as he snuggled against her, eyes on his shoes.

"So...the mission," John tried again. "I'm not sure where to begin, or even how. We..." he paused, as all eyes were on his son again.

The baby was concentrating. Little brows furrowed. Sucking on his lower lip. He touched his shoe. Pulled. Pulled off his shoe. Held it up and met his mother's gaze. Grinned. "Ga!"

Moira smiled. "No, Johnny. Keep on your shoe." She took it from him. Slid it onto his little foot.

The baby pouted. Touched his foot. Pulled. Pulled, little tongue sticking out of his mouth. He pulled off the shoe. Held it up. Grinned. "Ga, mama!"

Moira tried not to laugh. "No, Johnny. Keep your shoe on." She tickled his bare foot. He giggled. She took the shoe from him. Slid it onto his little foot. Glanced at John. "Were you like this about shoes?"

"Shoes? No. Hats, yes. Must be your thing. He doesn't like socks either."

"It can't be me, then. I always leave on my socks."

"True." He looked at the others. "So, the mission? Or are you all going to just sit there staring at my son's foot all day?" he quipped.

"Ga!" The baby had removed the shoe again. Held it up like a trophy. Laughter.

Moira smiled. "Keep it on, silly." She replaced it again. Looked up to see all watching them. She glanced at John who was watching as well. Amusement in his brilliant green eyes. Love. Such dazzling warmth she lost her voice a moment. Overcome by all that emotion, all that love for his son. Realized despite his avowals he would do anything to protect his child, nurture his child. Place his child ahead of everything and everyone. Even herself, perhaps. A tension relaxed in her. Resolved.

John raised his eyes to her. Saw her realization. Her love. Felt it almost, a palpable wave washing over him. Absolving him. Forgiving him. He had no idea what he had done but all of that aloofness and reserve was gone. He wanted her. Wanted to be alone with her, with his son.

Moira broke the intense gaze. Looked at the others. "Sorry! I...I'll take him...he's too–"

"Distracting," John finished for her. Caught her arm gently before she could move. "Maybe we should table this for later? When Johnny's–"

"Sleeping, yes, that would be better," Moira finished for him, agreed.

"Ga! Ga, dada ga!" The baby held up his shoe once more. Pride on his little face. Laughter.

"Johnny, no!" Moira sighed, replaced it yet again.

"Let him go barefoot, Moira," John advised. "It's not like he's walking yet anyway."

"Sorry!" Moira stood. "Have the meeting. John can fill me in later."

"You better believe it," he muttered, raised a brow.

She smirked at his sensual undertone. "Come on, darling." She carried the baby out of the room.

"Dada! Dada goo! Dada? Dada goo! Dada goo!" The baby cried over her shoulder. "Dada!"

"Hush, Johnny, daddy's busy," Moira soothed.

"Dada! Dada! Dada!" the baby insisted.

John stood. Met the amused gazes of his friends. "Um, I really should go see what all the fuss is about. Rodney can fill me in later."

"What? How? You were supposed to fill us in!"

Moira sat on the bed, playing with the baby. She had hold of his little bare feet, was gently moving them. Tickling as he giggled. Pretending to gnaw on his tiny toes. He laughed. He cooed, big blue eyes locked with hers. Little hands reaching to clasp her hair as it swirled over him like a curtain. "Is that better, Johnny? Silly Johnny and his shoes!" She kissed him. He gurgled as she fussed over him, spoiling him with attention. She circled his ear, nibbled. He giggled in delight. She freed his feet. Touched his tummy. "You mustn't disrupt another meeting, darling. Daddy won't be pleased."

"Daddy is very pleased," John countered, entering the room. Smiling at the pair as he neared. "To have gotten out of that but we can't avoid the subject forever, Moy. Captain? Ah...bare feet at last, huh?"

Moira sighed as the baby caught her fingers, prattling softly. "When?"

John sat behind her. Touched her back. Fingers playing with her hair. "After lunch, I'm thinking. When you know who is taking a nap."

"Oh. I'll stay with him then."

"No. You need to be there too. So either we get a sitter or he comes with us. Think he'd sleep through it? I know I've been tempted to sleep through a number of times."

She smiled, glanced over her shoulder at him. "I'm not surprised. Maybe. I don't know." She looked back at the baby. He was smiling at his parents. "I think he's ready for some down time. A quieter game or two before he has lunch."

"Good. I do enjoy down time," John teased, kissing her throat. "Then we can play what fits where again." She laughed. "What? I like that game, Moira, I really do. And I have plenty of ideas for what can fit where...other options, shall we say?"

She smirked at his sensual tone. "I have no doubt of that, colonel. Behave, would you?" She caressed the baby's rosy cheek. "Daddy is very silly today."

"Silly? No. Horny, hell yes."

"John!"

He laughed. Slid his hand around, up to enclose a breast. "Baby, I want to play what fits where again. I'll make you chime, I promise."

She laughed. "You already did, sweetie. John!" she scolded as his fingers slid down to caress between her legs.

He kissed her throat. "Again, Moy. Before lunch. Hell, after lunch too, okay? We won't do anything you don't want to do. I promise. Sheppard's delight? Wall? Table? Floor? You can tie me up if you want, baby. Well?"

Moira turned to him, kissed him. Smiled, eying him up and down. "Hmm...colonel. How do you want me?"

John slowly smiled.


	16. Chapter 16

The Descent of Wraith16

Moira rolled onto her stomach, yawned. Blearily checked the clock. "Ten. Ten minutes, John," she informed breathlessly. Marveling at the progression of the afternoon. From gentle lovemaking, to a quick lunch, to playing with the baby until he was ready for his nap. Then John's playing what fits where. Sheppard's delight, sex on the chair, then the table. Quick, energetic bursts of passion, of pleasure. Intimacy. Until they had ended up on the bed again. She smiled as John's hand slid down to her rear. As he kissed her shoulder.

"Hmm, ten?" he asked, looking at the clock as well. Pressing himself along her. "So that gives us, what, five?" His voice was husky. Raw. He wished he had a beer. Body sated, pleasured. As was hers. Confident all was right between them. Confident now that they had engaged in more energetic sex. Knew he could regain whatever he had inadvertently lost. "So that give us, what? Five? Hmm...what can we do in five?"

She giggled. "Knowing you I'm sure there's something." He chuckled. She rolled towards him. Kissed him. "Oh John..."

"Oh Moira," he echoed. "What fits where is my favorite game now."

She smirked. "Really, colonel? Even better than the soldier and the scientist?"

He grinned. "Well...maybe not. Certainly not better than the naughty colonel and the strict, strict paleozoologist who has to discipline him. Repeatedly."

She laughed. "Oh. Yes..that is a good one. Almost as good as kinky caramel."

"Yeah..." he said seriously. "We still need to do that."

"Not in five, colonel."

"No, I guess not. Crap." He sighed.

She smiled. Kissed him again. But grew serious. "John...what are we going to do?"

He frowned. "Hell if I know, Moira. We have to be very careful here, don't we?"

"Yes. The intel...we can't reveal too much."

"Agreed. So you handle the progenitor of the species. The ATA and the Wraith. Baldy. The thing that attacked me. Just generally. No mention of the double at all. And those creatures, you can go on and on and on about the evo-devo stuff. That should stop any and all questions."

"Hilarious, John. Okay. What about you?"

"The ship. The reverse migratory pattern and that moon. Tech stuff. Baldy's agenda, but in general terms only."

"Don't forget your girlfriends. The ascended women," she reminded.

"Oh yeah. Ex-girlfriends. Crap. Rodney's going to have a field day with that one."

"Did you? Have a field day with them?" she asked suddenly, sat. Began to pull on her clothes.

John watched her. "Huh? Oh, hilarious, Moira."

"I'm serious, John," she said, fastening her bra. Pulling on shirt and swiftly buttoning it. She flung her hair out of the material. "Well? Did you? You and your wandering cock?"

"My what? What the heck is that about, baby? It was way before I even met you."

"I know. It's just a question, sweetie." She looked round but frowned as he smiled.

John was twirling her green panties on his fingers. Kept his arm out of her reach. "Just a question? Oh...that's right! You would want to know that since you only had two lovers before I rocked your world. Two! I still can't believe that!"

"Shut up about my few, few men, damn it!"

"Then shut up about my lots some women, ascended or not!" he retorted. They eyed each other a moment. Glare for glare. Until Moira smiled, laughed. John laughed as well. Pulled her onto him, kissing her. He swatted her rear. "Enough, baby!"

"Finally?" she asked, squirming on him.

He laughed, about to reply when a fussing sound broke the air. "Crap. That's lousy timing, captain!" he called.

"Dada goo!" the baby replied, sounding equally annoyed.

John and Moira laughed heartily. Moira kissed him, slid off him. Grabbed her panties from him, her pants. "Get some clothes on, would you, sweetie! I'll see to Johnny."

John smiled. Sprang off the bed and got dressed. Ran a hand through his hair. He sauntered into the nursery. Moira was fully clothed now, turned as she finished dressing the baby. "Hey, captain, are you, no no no no! Another sailor suit?" he complained.

She laughed. "Yes, John. He's adorable in them!"

John sighed, moving to them. "He's Air Force, Moy, not Navy. Right, junior?"

"Dada za! Za za!"

"See? Za. He understands me."

"I'm glad someone does. Is the ow!" she complained as he spanked her. "John!"

"That's another for insubordination. Damn, Moy, that is one pert little ass!"

"Shut up! Fucking soldier!" she teased.

"Again? Fine by me, baby." He laughed at her expression. Sobered. He took the baby, carried him out of the nursery. "So...this meeting. We have our stuff straight? Oh. Carson?"

Moira followed, watching as John set the baby into his stroller. Gave him a toy. She neared, smacked his rear.

"Hey!" he protested, whirling.

She laughed. "That is one fine, fine six you've got there, colonel."

"I know, baby. Carson?"

"Hmm...yes...I suppose Carson has a fine six too, but not as fine as yours."

"Moira!" John laughed.

"I haven't made a scientific comparison but given the limited data I can say with a fair amount of certainty that yours is the finer of the two,"she continued, voice serious. "Now, as for any other comparisons I'd be more than happy to make a detailed analysis of–"

"Moira!" he scolded. He pulled her into his arms, kissed her. "Do you have any idea how much I love you, baby? Love us, love this, love him?" He glanced at his son.

She smiled, kissed him. "Yes, John. I love you too. Love us, love this, love him." She looked at the baby as well. Sobered. Touched John's chest, drawing his gaze back to her. "We can trust Carson. He won't reveal anything about Johnny. Or you. We won't reveal anything about Johnny. Or you. But we...John...it's why we have to leave, John. We...we have to leave Atlantis."

Rodney glanced at the clock. At his watch. At the clock again. He shrugged. "Well?"

Elizabeth sighed. "It doesn't look like he's coming."

"Like any of them are coming," Teyla agreed.

"We can have the meeting without them, right?" Ronon asked.

"No! How can we when John has all of the vital information?" Rodney asked. "It was his mission. He was the one on Earth. He found out about those creatures. He was the one who was abducted with Moira and Johnny. He was on that Ancient warship and flew it to that moon! He was the one who dealt with Baldy and that, that whatever it was!"

"He was the one who almost died, so why don't we just let him be with Moira and Johnny?" Ronon countered, glowering.

"Because we need his input and his–" Elizabeth again.

"No. Ronon's right." All stared at Steven as he spoke. "Sheppard's been through hell and is still recovering. So has Moira and even little Johnny. The important thing is that the threat has been eliminated. Baldy is dead. So is that creature. There will be no more of those things running around the galaxy. That Ancient ship was no doubt destroyed when the moon hit that planet."

"I agree," Carson stated. "The rest is just academic. Knowledge, science, nothing more. Nothing vital to the city or its security. John can inform us in his own time, once he's stronger and has had time with his family to heal."

"And is that your medical opinion, doctor?" Elizabeth asked. Her tone dubious.

"Yes, Elizabeth. It is," the doctor firmly stated. Earning a smile from Ronon.

Teyla shook her head. "Even so, I, for one, would like to know how those Wraith creatures came to be. How even the Wraith came to be in the first place. Was that not the objective of Moira's initial research?"

"Yes, but as Elizabeth said, we don't need to know their origin, only their future," Carson smoothly argued. "Because their future impacts ours. Not their past. And since there will be no more mutated creatures running around I think we're done here." The doctor stood, startling everyone. "Right?" Without waiting for an answer he left.

Rodney was the first to react. He stood, followed after his friend. "Hey, hey, wait up! Carson!" He grabbed the other man's arm, halting him. "You know something!"

"I know lots of things, Rodney," Carson agreed. Freed his arm and headed down the hallway.

Rodney followed. "But you...you're never like that unless you're protecting something. Or someone. So? Is it John? John's okay, isn't he?"

"Yes. John will be fine."

"And Johnny? The kid's okay, right?

"Johnny will be fine."

"And Moira? She's okay, too, right?"

"Yes, Rodney. Let it go."

"Let it go? Let what go? Let...ah ha!" Rodney followed Carson to his room. "So there is something! Tell me. I'm John's best friend, you know. If there is something about all of this I need to know as well. Carson?"

Carson turned to him. Sighed. "No. There is nothing. Drop it."

"Drop it? Drop what? Ah ha! There is something to drop, is there?"

"Rodney!" Carson flared, entering his room. But Rodney followed, persistent.

"Tell me, Carson! I need to know. You say they are all right but there's something, isn't there? Isn't there? If something is wrong I need to know. Carson!"

The doctor sighed. "Yes, there is something, but no." He raised a hand. "I won't tell you. Everyone is fine. Rodney, drop it. All right? If John wants you to know he will tell you. Otherwise the best thing we can do is get back to normal. All of us."

John stared at his wife. Her serious, sad gaze. Brown eyes full of emotion, love. Trust. "Fine," he said quietly. "The Daedalus is still docked here. We can have all of our gear stowed in two days, maybe three. Catch the ride back to Earth."

"John? You...you would do that? Just like that?"

"Yes. For you." He kissed her. His mouth a gentle pressure on hers. The baby watched them.

"Without a reason?" she tested, not quite believing him.

"Yes. For you," he repeated. "I'd do anything for you, Moira. Anything. For you and for him."

"I...we have to protect Johnny."

"Yes, and we will. So...care to tell me why we're moving before we move?"

"I..." She sighed. "It's...it's everything, John. No...it's Johnny. You. The danger out here. To the both of you. Neither of you would be in danger back on Earth. I know, I know that your priority is this city, your job here, but things have changed, John. You are my priority. Johnny is my priority. And I can't risk either of you. Not for anything."

"My priority is you, Moira. Always has been. Always will be. And now Johnny. Nothing is going to happen to Johnny, and nothing is going to happen to me."

"You can't know that, John! You can't possibly know that! We have to leave here, don't you see? The two of you are not safe here! The two of you are–"

John kissed her, cutting off her rising panic. He pulled her against him, kept kissing her. Hands sliding down to grasp her rear. Gently squeeze. Moira murmured, pushing against his chest. Pulling her mouth from his. "No. You told me yourself, Moira. Johnny isn't going to turn into a bug, or a Wraith, right? And neither am I. No one knows about him except us. And Carson. And Rodney. No one else. And you have all that data encrypted, right? About the origin of the Wraith, the double ATA carriers, the evo-devo stuff, all of it. And my piggy bank gene or whatever the hell it is."

"Piggyback," she corrected with a smile, knowing he was being deliberately dense to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, whatever, like I said. So no. My Moira."

"But John, John, you...you almost...you died..." she whispered, eyes filling with tears. She eyed his chest, fingers splayed on his t-shirt.

John kissed her. Ran his mouth along her cheek, tasting her tears. "I know, sweetheart...I know. I was there. And I wasn't. I had the chance to ascend, but I chose not to ascend. I chose to come back to you, to Johnny...I couldn't leave you either of you and I'm sure as hell not going to leave either of you now. Or ever."

She met his gaze, startled. "You...you...ascended?"

"No. I was given the choice, Moy, but I said no." He touched her cheek, catching a stray tear on his finger. "Funny, huh? Me of all people ascending? But no." He glanced at the stroller. The baby was staring, little mouth open. Hands curled around the stroller's front bar. "It's all right, junior. Give us a minute here, okay?"

Moira was still staring at him, as if transfixed. Fingers still splayed on his chest. His arms still around her, hands gently grasping her rear. Cupping it as he met her gaze again. "You...you ascended?" she repeated.

"No. I didn't. That's the point, baby. I chose to stay here, injured as I was, well, am, to be with you and our son. So I'm not going anywhere...except to Earth if that is what you really want. I'm just saying that Johnny and I are fine and will continue to be fine. Nothing will touch us, Moy. Nothing touches our little circle. I don't want to leave Atlantis, Moy."

She frowned, pushed out of his arms. "Why? You just said you'd do anything for me, for your son! John, I don't want to leave either but I don't see that we have a choice! For your safety, for Johnny's safety we have to leave! Don't you see?"

"No, Moy, I don't. You want to leave based on the remote possibility that something may or may not happen to me? To Johnny? Nothing will happen to Johnny. Nothing will happen to me. So no, Moira, unless you absolutely insist and give me no other option we are staying right here. At the merest hint of any danger we will leave, you have my word."

"Not good enough, John! You don't get it! Johnny...he'll never be safe here, will he? With his double ATA. And you...we have no idea what could trigger that piggyback gene. It's dormant now and if your system doesn't reject it or absorbs it or–"

"Johnny will be perfectly safe here, Moira! We will watch over him. Hell, the whole city will watch over him! If I thought for a second that either you or Johnny were in any kind of danger I would be the first to get you both to Earth, no questions asked. All right? I've done it before, you may recall. I will do it again. As for me...I'm fine. Carson said the likelihood of that dormant thing being triggered is remote, at best. And at worst...he's got ideas for treatments already lined up and waiting."

"It's not good enough, John! Please, you–"

"Enough!" he snapped. "For now, this discussion is over. For now we are staying. Unless you really, really, really insist, Moira. But I want you to think it through calmly. Now, let's grab some dinner, all right?" He headed for the door.

Moira frowned. Sighed. Pushed the stroller after him.


	17. Chapter 17

The Descent of Wraith17

John strolled with Moira down the hallway. She was pushing the stroller in front of her. The baby was staring round, prattling softly. "So...we're all squared away, right? About the meeting, I mean. What to say. What not to say. You handle the evo-devo stuff, the progenitor in general terms, all the genetic mumbo jumbo. I'll handle the Ancient tech, the ship, Baldy, and the moon. Deal?"

"Don't forget your girlfriends," she reminded.

"Oh. Yeah. Ex-girlfriends. Damn. Rodney is going to have a field day with that," he mourned.

"Serves your right, colonel. You and your wandering cock," she tartly remarked.

"Whoa!" He caught her arm, stopping her. The baby's prattling stopped as he looked up at his parents. "Moira? Oh come on! You can't be jealous! Can you?"

She met his gaze. "Do I need to be? Maybe if you hadn't have been blinded by their beauty you would have shot first and asked questions later!" She sighed. "Sorry...I just...you...Johnny..."

"What?" John placed his hands on his hips, not moving as she continued down the hallway.

"Dada! Dada goo!" the baby protested, looking round for his father.

Moira noted his absence. Stopped. Turned. "John? John! We need to grab some dinner before the meeting, don't we?"

"What?" he repeated. "I thought we were squared away as well. Sure as hell felt like it, baby, when we were repeatedly fucking."

"John!" she protested, coloring as a few people passed, hurried on after curious glances. She scowled. "Damn it! Will you get that fine, fine ass over here so we can get dinner?"

"No. This fine, fine ass is staying right here until you explain yourself, baby."

"Fine!" She turned, pushed the baby down the hallway. Round the corner.

The baby started to cry. "Dada! Dada goo! Dada!"

John sighed. Couldn't ignore the needs of his son. Even though he wanted to avoid the mood of his wife. He hastened to join them. He walked beside them again. The baby quieted, gurgled, staring up at him. "It's all right, junior."

"Yes, darling. Don't you worry."

"What does he have to worry about, Moira? Except your petulant mood swings," he dourly noted. "Your Moira storms. Your sarcastic tongue."

"And your wandering cock, colonel," she snapped. "And the fact that you refuse to..." she paused as more people passed. The baby prattled at a few.

John glowered. Took her arm and guided her towards the wall, out of the flow of traffic. "For the record, baby, my cock does not wander. Not anymore. What the hell has gotten into you?" He paused, smiled. "Besides me, that is. Repeatedly."

"Can't you figure it out, Mensa boy?"

"I guess not, Paleo girl. So enlighten me." He stared at her a moment. "Ah."

"Ah? Think you know, do you?" she asked. Angry. Sad. Worried.

"Yeah."

She waited, but he was silent. Smiling. "Care to enlighten me?"

"No. Let's go." He led her down the hallway. The baby resumed prattling.

Moira wheeled the baby into the cafeteria. It was crowded, full of scientists, technicians, soldiers. Several smiled at the family. She nodded, smiled at friends. Headed for the back of the room. To a secluded table. Wanting to be away from them. Wanting to avoid them. The baby prattled at people, little voice exclaiming at those he knew. Those he recognized. Those who had the ATA gene.

She turned, expecting John to be behind her. Instead he was a few feet from her, talking to a vivacious red-haired woman. He was smiling, being the utterly charming and dashing colonel. Head tilted to one side in obvious flirtation. Handsome face full of interest. Green eyes sparkling. Handsome body all long and lean. One hand on his hip now. As if feeling her gaze he glanced over at her. Smiled smugly. Smirked. Moira swore under her breath. "Fucking alpha," she muttered. Unaccountably jealous. She eyed the baby. He was staring up at her, big blue eyes wide. She smiled. "It's all right, darling. No need to worry."

"Worry? About what now?" John asked, leaving the woman to reach his wife. Amused at her expression. Aroused by the anger, the jealousy. "I forgot to ask what you wanted."

"Wouldn't be the first time," she noted.

"Hilarious, Moira. Oh come on! I was just talking to her. She just arrived, a new doctor."

"Oh I bet, and Colonel Sheppard just had to give her the welcome speech, did he?"

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"And that's why you don't want to leave here, is that it?" she asked. "Because here you are the great hero, the leader of Atlantis, the commander who gets whatever woman he wants?" Her anxiety over his refusals turning to anger. Disdain. Pissed at his obstinacy.

"Not that again! No! I don't want to leave here because this is our home. I like my job. And I can just as easily get whatever woman I want on Earth as well, so that's not a mitigating factor in my decision," he added, deliberately baiting her. Knowing it could lead to some very delicious, hot sex afterwards. He smiled.

"You bastard," she muttered. "You arrogant, pigheaded son of a–"

"Chicken it is, then, with the works," he decided, interrupting her diatribe with a dazzling smile. "Scientist," he added under his breath, as if the word was an insult, an accusation. He glanced at his son. "Keep her in line, junior, until I get back."

"Try not to be distracted by another beautiful woman, honey," Moira retorted.

John stopped. Turned to her. Eyed her a moment. Moira glared, waiting for the retort, the sarcasm. Finding refuge in arguing so she could avoid the tangled emotions. "Only by you, sweetheart," he replied, surprising her. His voice low, gentle. His gaze full of abrupt passion, love. He glanced at the baby again, turned and headed for the line of people getting food.

Moira stared after him. Startled. Pleased. Flattered. She felt guilty at baiting him, at nitpicking over his reasons. Using jealousy instead of reason. Trying to deliberately provoke an argument. She squatted near the stroller as the baby was trying to climb out of it, little hands grabbing the rail. "No, Johnny, it's all right. Daddy will be back soon."

"Dada, dada goo!"

Moira lifted him, set him on the floor, curious as to what the baby would do. Charmed by his insistence. "Johnny, it's all right." The baby looked at her. Caught hold of her hands and shakily stood. Moira smiled, marveled as he took a very tentative step. Another. Looked down at his shoes in wonder. He took another as she supported him, turning him towards his father. "John!" she called, forgetting their discord.

John turned, heading for her but paused. Staring. Moira was kneeling near the baby as he stood, little hands securely locked around her fingers. "Whoa...junior?"

Moira kissed the baby's cheek. "Darling, go see daddy. Can you walk to daddy? I know you can, darling. Go on." She freed her fingers gently.

The baby stumbled, grabbed his stroller as he stood. He looked at his mother, alarmed at her sudden withdrawal, but she was still there, smiling at him. Love on her face, in her eyes. He turned carefully, saw his father.

John was closer now, kneeling on the floor. Arms outstretched. A smile on his face. "Come here, junior. Can you walk to daddy? Come on, buddy, you can do it!"

The baby stared. A hush had fallen over the cafeteria. All voices stilled. All eyes watching. Everyone was holding their breath. Waiting. Waiting. The baby looked at his mother again. Making sure she was close. He sucked on his lower lip a moment, as if debating. Then freed the stroller. He toddled awkwardly, step after step towards his father. Until he suddenly fell onto his bottom. He sat, about to cry.

"Johnny, you–" Moira was about to rush to the baby, but John held up a hand.

"No, Moy, let him figure it out. Johnny, come here, son. It's all right. You can do it, son."

The baby gurgled. "Dada goo?"

"Yes, junior. Come on. Come to daddy now," John encouraged, gesturing.

The baby began to crawl. Stopped seeing his father shaking his head. He crawled towards a table. He grabbed a leg, pulled himself to his feet. Looked up to see his Uncle Rodney staring down at him, smiling. Nodding. "Ra ra ra goo?"

"Yes, kiddo. Go on," Rodney encouraged. Beamed at Carson smugly. Carson shook his head, amused at his friend's elation, pride.

The baby freed Rodney's leg. Toddled unsteadily. Step by step, swaying like a drunken sailor in his navy and white sailor suit, little arms flailing for balance. Little face a study in concentration, in seriousness.

John was grinning. As the baby reached him he caught the infant before he fell. Swung him up high to make him giggle, coo. "That's it, son! I knew you could do it!"

"GA!" the baby agreed happily, chortling as his father lowered him. Kissed his brow.

"GA!" John shouted. Applause broke out, laughter as everyone celebrated the baby's first steps.

"Did you see that? Did you see my son walking? Walking! Walking already!" he beamed, eying the crowd. His grin infectious, his joy evident. He gently bounced the happy baby, carried him back to Moira who was watching, smiling. "Did you see that, sweetheart! He's a prodigy, I swear! Way ahead of his time!"

"Yes, John,"she agreed indulgently. As John set the baby into the stroller she looked round. At the shared amusement, pride, joy. Rodney's excited voice as he kept proclaiming how the baby had chosen him and only him to help aid his first steps. Carson's indulgent smile of amusement. Ronon's grin of delight. Evan's grin. Teyla's fond smile. Elizabeth's wistful expression. Katie's grin. Everyone was united in their humor, their joy, their fondness. Realization hit her. Made tears sparkle in her eyes.

"Moy?" John was on his knees, turned from the baby to touch her hand. "Sweetheart? He's fine, you know. Soon he'll be walking all on his own. Right?"

"Yes. You...you were right, John." She smiled, touched his hand on hers. "This is our home. Atlantis."

He smiled. "Yes, Moira. Atlantis is our home." Realized what she was saying. He leaned close, kissed her. Looked at his son who was watching, grinning. "Isn't that right, junior? Atlantis is our home. Atlantis is home," John repeated slowly, pronouncing each word with care.

The baby considered. Looked at his father who was smiling at him, love and pride on his face. Looked at his mother. She was smiling, love and warmth in her gaze. Looked round the cafeteria. At the happy, smiling people. Some shone brighter to him than others. He felt the pull of them, like to like, the similar genetic connection. He looked at the walls which sang to him. They felt familiar. Safe. He eyed his parents again. Felt their stronger pull, their love.

"Dada goo. Mama goo. Atis is ome."

THE END


End file.
